THE CURSE OF AGRICOLA.

 

I am, it seems, always right abut such things as this, the imperial and the like, no matter what the ridiculers and mute else-wise say.

As at a page for my buddy Keith Olbermann, where somehow those who are stringently decent and noble are always on the pad and the clock for the filthiness among us, Machiavelli whip and all that, I saw in something more important than mere grange pail politics, that they , the southies and other bass-ton beanies who live off a strange self righteousness despite having been against bussing darkies too close to the Irish hags in plaid, and remember the nun told me a right to abortion, once not as iron clad to Mister Hyde as it has become now, there was no right to abortion on demand until circumnavigated by and confronted with a godless and proletariat owned school system. Anyway, the Boston Princeton patriot devoted said that there was a move on , as it were to get Vince Lombardi's name off that Bauhaus nightmare called a football trophy, and replaced it with the name of a found out multiple cheater, Bill Bellicheck. In the resistance something more for white piggish sluts and Bush family hangers on than say any Palestinians, of his constant triumph, like Biden later playing to similar audience, I said, wake me, dears when he is chronically unemployable Oh what laughs that titillated. But in fact within two years, and with rent a Cowboy Zeke giving his grovelling team hart., he was in fact gotten rid of by the Jewish macher who owns that team, and kept cheating alive. And though epsn, hatchery of Olbermenn, tried to get him onto the Dallas Cowboy team, as TV isn't what it sued to be,a s Elsbeth has supplanted hill street as Thursday must seeing, Jerry Jones no less, with a hunger that makes Jill Biden look sane, told him allegedly , that in fact this was Americas team, and no matter what he said and what he did, still the valence barterer more than anything still was the place of Tom Landry, Bob Lilly and the first true Captain America. As despite the crooks regrettable, the smarmy creeps and their love of flattery, the opposite side of the coin of ridicule, like Jake the snake tappers, as again there should be at least magnanimity among thieves, lest the socialists of tv land be yelled at by ignored plebs , and know it about equally romantic Bill, there is a floor , if not a catacomb that the Roman will not dig beneath.

Like a disappearing greaser in a soda commercial when I was a kid,

Bye Bye Jackson...so low has this imperial chariot fallen that OLE King Joe a briquette of an old soul, thinks he should become president because he placed another president with a record as he did to masses of backs who are peeling away...imagine that. RIGHT THIS WAY Niccolo, as Obama is a better or worse man than I am as I would have learning politics from queer Jesuits run like hell and told the dilapidated old coot, have a southie carry you to glory, Anchises, not that he ever get that. Oh, know who else isn't a convicted felon.... MEAN BESIDES TRUMP AS HE HASN'T BEEN FORMALLY CONVICTED YET, AS LAWSUITS LIKE AGAINST RUDY, NO FAN, STILL, SOMETIMES THE THREADS DO FALL PART, as somehow it would tactfully be a federal offense if CNN hosted a debated between men who haven't been formally nominated, but then, Biden isn't a real president anyway, and he keeps cutting but Trump aint bleeding.

 

Personally I, would have told George Will to f off, when he started sniffing at the plutonium dealers arms merchants who now have a cretin and his miss polish sausage 1991 wife play Lucy and Rickey in the morning, Hello out there in television land...like a black chick on war TV would say under her breath. Oliver North. Wowee, this is Dullsville, man..In a piece wrote and published on line and in print in 2020, whose page as a comic strip and whose sketch was sold as a cover to a raven minded lit mag, I love the black birds, called the prince of the crows, I, seeing the pinball wizard at a lowest ebb for us lovers of Ovid, still, I had a feeling if by chance and stupid calculation the frat boys who elicited a Feh from the Virgilian earth when they got their shitty jobs, look IT up, as was crestfallen that Italian grandmothers were being slaughtered openly for a goon who couldn't bring up Reagan on charges of treason, i mean, he did say the Boland amendment didn't apply somehow, like say many of the DUI he has had , of even look into impeaching Reagan, HE SAVES HIS BEST FANGS FOR OTHER DEMOCRATS, OR GOD FORBID VOTE FOR HEALTH CARE, I had sympathetic Bill say , as I do, that there was nothing in politics he didn't leaner from PLAUTUS. And there, the night once again a window dressing negro broad tow bagger had to tell us it wasn't as bad as it looks, like Jack Kirby art, while he was being led away by President HECKLE, SOMEHOW, THERE WAS AUNTIE MAME AT THE Tony AWARDS NO LESS, basking in limelight and on boards studlier than his, so, once again, we are here to venerate the gods of comedy and tragedy, and now , the entire company, according to the daily mail, cums on stage as the ravens make his sky black with comeuppance wings.

In 2020, a day and time that has the Bleak house telling A BIGGER CHECK, and the Peacock on our banks, and the cyclops and all the clowns and drunken and black faces and death threatening of Polyphemus land to be told now to avoid the dying old Scaldoni who is and was Doctor Doom, Kermit the wop, doctor Quetsa the Facci, as he is , like Italian may, have less a JEWISH SHAMELESSNESS TO HIM AND IS STARTING AS THOSE WOPS MIGHT, START TO FEEL A CERTAIN ENNUI ABOUT ALL THOSE DEAD GRANDMAS IN HIS WAKE AND HIS GIGGLING. When I heard that I was assured once again that again I am always right about such things, as knew heed never survive this whole mishear if TRUMP DIDN'T WIN, if Biden steals the election again and egos against the ethics and he physics, MACHIAVELLI AND GALILEO are according to Calvino amazingly duplicate, of the Tuscan history, NOW THAT'S the fall to remember, autumn in Laurentium, and the superuser doesn't pay, it is a death warrant as I warned last time for not just him, but all who supported him. Don't believe me, I opine told my biddy Keith Olbermann once, to the distraught and womanish histrionics of some cvnt who took her marching orders from a wayward sportscaster how he marched for a war consortium, that it was unseemly to think the goon hack old corpus who gave the requiem of a lightweight for the cretin Dixiecrat Strom who ran against FDR over the socialist who was his vice President, Henry Wallace, not the one Biden was delegate for, before they stalled stupidly on that haberdasher, and she suspected saying that FDR was a Democrat did our musketeer say, to which I had to respond yes but at the time so was Strom, ask An Andrew Cuomo. ASK him who stupid a curia is and can be who replaces an Italian at 60 percent winning percentage for a crazy eyed slob cow who is Nora Desmond-ing her way to making New Amsterdam a tossup state. For the love of Oz that's right, George will, our newest vizier wizard, didn't ever like him, not even segregationist brownie points, not against busing enough, i guess to get that prissy bitches thin lipped seal of approval. Ah but it peppers that the poor mans Bill Buckeyes is peeling off as i knew he couldn't survive being that close to Robert Di Nero for so long. He though the heir to Firing lines, only could do a half measure trashing of Gore Vidal the day he died, not even worth mentioning, as it was more scurrilous what he did to Billy Graham, but then he had this swerve set up, like idiots always do, or as ill Buckley himself told me in an unsolicited email i wished I had kept like a Jesuit magazine, it wasn't George Will, who he disdained like Carson did Letterman, NEVER AT THE HOUSE EH...? who Truuuman invited to the black and white ball given for that old hag Graham, as will was just 11 or so, Buckley tole me, but the idea is the same. Ouch

But then when Biden appears, stupidity wins the day and even medieval ides of giantess goes out the cracked and open window, none of which open up on the TYBER BREEZE. Do, get him outta the Tuscan sun, girls...

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vk6014HuxcE 

 

 

But, I, Roman Tony must ask again between the karocki done shamelessly and without empathy, the essence of the roots of all evil, by the way, as ALL, TO GET INTO GEORGETOWN, AS I would not want, one had to at least skim the Summary Theological which is mute to old coot Biden and his crime familial sonny, as they couldn't even get through MELVILLE, much less anything as esoteric as Ariosto. A thought a Jesuit trained student for life may have, once again anything that comes out of that crypt keepers mouth, the last Jack Davis cartoon there will ever be, as everything is true,a s Gore said, is the opposite of whatever he just said, the cretin who somehow let every member of Iran Contra never sped a night in jail, not will hurl anyone into jail who is against him, a bigger fruited plain of penetrates is needed Tyberius, when you languish in real clear polls at 26. something beloveds, if that, again, he cut out his own holes in the stage and then forget where he placed them, like farces do, but if he is such a mix of Horatio on a crumbling bridge and Pericles, another devotee of the Greek democracy we have now , sorry Bill, but the Republic couldn't survive Junior and their Fisa billed platypuses, well, then, how could this early on a midsummer's night scheme be kosher to misuse the word of how people who slaughter the innocents and anyone else, present themselves as holy and good...? 

 

 

I MEAN, HOW IS IT NOT AN ANTHEM—MY adoration of the Roman republic late lives and how the machinery of res publicans corrode and corrupt is whole it is complete, you know, bothering and bothersome to so many and so openly so, how can a dying old coot be made to tap dance for his placements and his request and his wooer and his sash as Niccolo would so say, how could that pepping and opening out of town with FELIX AND SOME PROBABLE DARKIE , PROVERBIALLY NOT BY NOW ANCHORETTE BE AKIN TO THE PRECEPTS OF EVEN A FAKE BULLSHIT GREEK TRAGEDY BACKGROUND DEMOCRACY. Camilla with a K, so smiling and laughing while you suffer and Colbert didn't realize that electricity prices would follow gas prices and make his magical pumpkin Tesla back to running on rats, how will they this late recast the stepson of Caesar, what Blessedness could they possibly find this late, eclectically as I said all along the wintertime days of only murders in the Biden Home, and home is the operative word, who, how, where how, wait, where ….who could they suddenly find as having like guiding light when i was a kid, they have to say , today playing the part of Mister Spalding is ...who...? And how about all those people who voted for the strangely happy warrior unrevealing Biden, what of their votes when some college of woodpeckers and vultures decided to suddenly tell this corpse it isn't his night, like it was not really ever his cycle epic to begin with...? you cat against type this time, CBS, and therefore this time, it all falls down. 

 

 

What of all the people who wanted, ...did anyone...? wanted Biden as the people's churce, what of their paper ballots and write in Campinas they ahd to paper the fruit plain with to make sure as would be seen soon enough that it was always anyone but Biden, all along, and that anyone buty trump os working out as well as anybody but Clinton did...? What about Ennius, whop said the will of god is the will of the people, how can a man and a Parthia that so enraptured itself—believe me telling even Jews and atheists on publishers row and even penguin, that the story of the rapture was stolen in whole cloth by the Jesus FREKATII was a no go, but then part of my hard to kill admiration for fatso Roman Bill was his smarter than thou's knowledge , like I had, that perquisite classics the conspiracy of Catiline was indeed called Catiline's war, as war has a meaning to a Roman no lamebrain merely perched at the armimentarium can ever fully understand as they keep quiet again about the five digit numbers of aftermath thanks to General electrics war economy. Fear he was not voted for by anyone, not as whole hardheartedly as they pretend when sold and bought again, that his a proprietorship built on the nuts and bolts of xerox machines and uni-vacs and twilight zone punch card mechanics befitting his past doggedness. So, again find that he cant play Oberon, or Brutus, they keep going to him over and over as a hero he isn't where but England, and ascertainment any infernos, go ahead and replace him, happy new year 69 ad, girls, meet me by the Hill gate, a dying empire its now called, run by the lowest level of sorts, sister Cecilia called them all D students, usually, they weren't just stupid god bless them, or even just slow, but merely lazy, and were always for health care before they were against it, as the Lunts build another monument to a dead duck who loses the praetor's rod and cape, all is farce, Miles, just as Herman Muster, Gore's nephew and other did before, except, as i said on The Prince of Crows, this time, if allowed will be worse as it ever was. hummnn...but then, who in 20, and four and twenty ravens baked into an imperial pie...who spoke of Tom Eagleton, while a gloomy Lucifer-Marius in the cold of shady groves, got his black birds to swarm on command, and guess what showman , what Barnum, what barefoot Marcus , at that money lending, d starred list show wasn't there to lead Joe Malarkey off of ANY STAGE, AT LEAST NOT SO OPENLY...? And whee did the cavalcade of his stupidity atop of everything else start by the by...Under a dying old man who certainly was no parallel life and got his dykes to speak of their being no barbarian invasions of civilization...where did it all start, girls, the wayward old coot walking off in a stupor that the new York times had to deal with when not allowing anyone to speak ill of genocide as they own the patent, or at least the copyright...? Why, right again that signora Fortuna would send her Dora's, they wont destroy Biden for my mother, but because once again Jolting Joe from Kokomo couldn't pass the Bar, AS she sent out her Wendy's who fly like bumble bees, against gravity and physics, so much for magic, and bother even Jove, to get her , their, pounds of mania flesh, ...like me Freud and Marx were Roman buffs. So where did the third act accord, Brother Bill, …?, why, mamamia, this way to the circus maximums, dears, why, it happened in Rome, Hillary...Strange dear, but true dear...Sure plays a mean pinball.

AN UPDATE to The Curse of Agricola.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=abH_k0YhL04

28 JUNE 2024.

It was after my having been hurled off a site called Zoe-trope , I had the temerity to tell this house goon wop that I saw before anyone that old Jo Wraling had misused, abused, and demeaned a hell of a lot of ITALIAN AND ROMAN ideas to make that illiterate jumble of Fantasia meets good bye mister Chips, AND THAT WAS so bothersome to him and his b and b that I was not only censored by that old man, as he made a career out of doing to Italians, and usually at pennies on the word. So, after that decided against my more lazy judgments, to send work out as had not en published since a schoolboy in essayist newspapers of second sheets and wood carvings in magazines of the society of Jesus with names like Scope and such mouthwash names, and didn't much care until those gangster movie makers and soon to sell out fire sale Gopher Lucas, as speaking of Roman acquisitions that never bothered the good and defunct women who over eat between crying about alleged Roman lover Bill not being allowed to be first lady, that I DECIDED THEN TO MAKE SURE I SENT OUT ENOUGH WORK TO PAPER THE FRUIT PLAINS OF GRAIN AND CHILD MOLSTEORS, Walmart and all of the ties in Clinton's playboy hiding sicks drawers, to demand a certain level of sight from them, and have indeed retrieved more acceptances than I had ever thought was possible ,which was why I didnt do muhc in the first place and did so much swining for the fenses as I had.

One of the first things tapped and even looked kindly on by some editors, was a piece called I SHOT ANDY WARHOL'S MUSEUM, and I got a nice response from some, if not acceptance, but then that too came from an art news like mag, over how somehow I connected the death of pope John Paul !!, to seeing Robert Hughes, Future Shock indeed, seen there, and the concurrency dying playboy cow, overt and over plucked , but never oversexed as long as blond, Ana Nicole Smith, usual Daisy Mae whose selling out to disfigurement the girdle next door into a Franzetta hillbilly , pig on a hit tin roof night mare. Some were upset that I d connect their still then adored Warhol to her, but I saw a continuance of line as the Jesuits taught me to see in all things, and eventually, in the admiration, it was picked up.

It was my sister's, beloved by me as a boy if not more than differently than my sharper brother, birthday, and the usual gang of conduits and praetorians at CNN, which was much more fun when Clinton played Alan Brady riding again, gave in and gave dying Biden all he nattered, always a mistake but then those in this curia who read the works of old Julianus Capitolinus, mimic less Plautus, can be counted on one hand, as it were, and in Chappiqua. AS because it was her birthday, and I've been thinking lately about all that I didn't do, or wouldn't do, and all those Italian women who were needed as massacred off so that this night could occur , I could care less, as missed it on purpose as I would when still employed cheater Bill Blechiek thought his may pole of exuberance and being a big macher would never end either. So, we were watching Bugs and daffy on a station of METV'S devoted to cartoons, as I wasn't missing out on this for what I thought would be a angry old mans last gasps at Paddy Chayefsky madness, HOWARD BEALE TA THE STAINED GLASS winnows, the Savonarola of the dying clowns of a dying God of war, I was and do admit again having been wrong as was too romanticism for this dower Plautus moment as if B'DEN HAS EVER PROVEN anything it is how he is always willing able to come up small. Decade late and a trillion dollars short. My brother in his night clothes came in though mid Mel Blanc masterworks and a cartoon about Foghorn –of course I thought of Clinton that night that the now devoted to his enemy General Clinton says all is forgiven about that night I recall well, in which Bi was a Pontiac man for Republicans against health care,and know that Biden met surreptitiously with goons from NEWTS TRIUMPH, and was tossing wrenches in health care, cause as he said, as a top five not only demarcate, but politics in that mausoleum, to got money from the Merks of the then against socialized medicine, as I believe he may have celled it, good democrat he's a;ways been, and was when siding with the John Birtchers to bring back the gallows and rope hangings, and do recall that when you have to play boo boo Kitty and go Humming on your pretty maids all in a tow at the planetarium, as the worshiper with Ohio Players chick has to announce that equally good Democrats as she are exploding her burner and sublet, all I said was coming home to roost, if vultures roost at all, ask Remus.

My brother came in and announced to me the scores of this Thursday night at the fights, as he was a Italian alter boy long before I was and did well at it as I refused, a devotee of Ennius even then,i refuted and refused the bread ceremony either an apostasy of demand by the mamba of Dio, WHATEVER, DEADPANNING on what bigot is misreading the Latin vulgate at the time or better whatever bar bar Quakerism that was a mistake Mohammedan didn't make later. It is , he said to me of this debate, An unmitigated disaster...he told me here in the late night dark touched as it was by Warner Bros technicolor barnyards, EUSTIS, he said, my Green acres as satire in the well water, is A BABBLING BLATHERING IDIOT. DIdnt you say, he asked me, That he'd be a ghost by June...?, he said admiringly so. Ah June, I thought, the month of the queen of the gods, one moment it is a lovely day and the snobbish Robbins flit through the air and then, in a eyelash wink, something angers the impersonators Goddess, far too Roman for any lesbain who would be the enchanter at GE THETAER aid the Paradise island that accusers there build in sandstone and bills for vicious drones. Then comes the incessant rains and the nature storms, pity of no where, as who can decider a woman's spinning madness...? HE SAID, my brother told me, That he wants to do for all Americans what he was able to do with Covid, ...And how, I said, I could even in the dark see my darker, sharper brothers smirk of disbelieving someone this full of nothing got this far with so little. And he said, We have a president we have to pledge allegiance to, who said just now, he took credit for “Beating medicare”...at this I could see he shook his head at the low level of shit they now at the armimentarium had to eat, as pop warned me of so long ago. Yeah, I said, He busted health care alright, I could only imagine what dear Rachel winced along with the rest of the gang at POPS CHOCOLATE SHOPPE AT WAR MONUMENT, when she heard that line, but then, buy now if you were NOT repeating as much, as vaudevillian supreme Machiavelli said, you weren't paying enough ettanetion dear.

And so at ten, I did watch Ed Henry, I really cant stand Bannion and his own we attack at dawn crap, as not only wont he take half a loaf, you not straining is somehow an insult to him, and where is Olbermann to night, as it seems all so hollow and forlorn. Gin, signora Fortuna said as she strokola carte as MA WOULD SAY, and though some spoke of how sad it was to see really nothing more than a spear carrier, bank trenchers fall to bits on that stage, how three faced can you get...? I wasn't sad at all, and I didn't wish I saw it in real time, but I thought of how heartsick they mist have been at 8 h tonight, AS IF THEY WERE SHOCKED, but then a praetorian must keep one eye on the exits, as I had warned, not again, that I much care, as where Rachel Maddow parks and Colbert paying exorbitant electric bills for his toy cars, really means nothing to me as I welshed that life of crime years ago, and still find every time I get an essay or a James Messe like gal in lingerie anywhere I have a better Roman triumph than anyone caught in that death march with the pretty ladies without a man to drive at 30 Rock, Black Rock, or anywhere else that the imperial crows seems to flock.

I was both repelled and yet fixated by this no end,as show who is un- electable now as Mario and Moncone and Geraldine were mere road kill to this goofballs plastic cementer chariot all along...? I did enjoy this no end as I did openly speak of enjoying watching the death march of that Pollock in that piece about Warhol, as he, the anti communist bishop of Rome begged to die, and was lsft in Apollonian sunshine, air conditioning the urba too must have been a sin against the Jewish god of childless CONSTANTINE...SEE...? He then begged to die to allow someone from the Hitler youth to become, ahem, the bishop of Alba Longa, AND THAT THAT JUNTA CHAPLIN THAT BUTTS HEADS WITH THIS DYING SHRUNKEN HEAD in the Vatican as I recall when that place was a torture chamber worthy of Manzoni, no wait, Passolini and his Salo years ago but not that meant I thought of father Gore and how no good deed indeed goes unforgivable, and how wonderful it seemed to me, in their tizzy, that again the gals and hags of war television , and not in the confines of beautiful downtown Burbank, I thought of how wonderful this was, and how all along the way, talking birds and mobile Italianate princess no Disney WOULDST EVER SHOW tole me so all along. Punctura, she is a bitch, and indeed she maced him good, and holed out that two bagger house coons arguments, and we all , well you at heart cared, saw it in all real time, and there was no cutting room floor upon which was the worsted of Nora Desmond number one. Punctura INDEED , THE ROMAN GODDESS HAD TAKEN HER POUND OF FLESH FROM THIS BAG OF CHECHEN PARTS, A HUMPHREY DUMPTY NO Obama WOULD EVER PLACE BACK TOGETHER, not with that wife around, she maced you good, kids, and signora Fortuna showed, amusingly unheard by one time devotee Clinton who boated for sun down to show his undying spurt, maybe you aren't Marius, and certainly that woman was wrong that night that 36 hooded democrats including all in the skull and bones of everyone hates Bill, certainly not Dandy Don, suited what Molly said. Goodnight, Caesar, goodnight Scaramouch, goodnight moon, goodnight abortion, the grievous fault, when you are a shovel everything looks like a grave. It was time for Bullwinkle.

We miss you Mario, we miss the Republic.

MEET HOWARD BEALE.

 

MEET HOWARD BEALE.

25 MAY 2023.

So, as I was watching my new favorite show, which I had somehow been avoidant OF, until a gal who accepted my cartoons told me it was really up my alley and I, having brusque with Jesuits at GEORGETOWN, would like it, like the old commercial for alka seltzer when  was a lad , I had watched and fell for #ELSBETH, A lovely show , which again is as good a query, but eyes wide open smarter than the usual l white trash ITALIAN as good as I am ever going to get. See previous post about trying to get a book I thought as merely the kind of pulp fictions that my brother collected in the attic when I was a boy , and are still, too human and humane to be electable here in Scorsese WORST amphitheater ever, Newkerk -land. AST IMPORTANT TO REMEMBER WHEN THE OVER FED WHITE WOMEN ARE NEVER ALAS WOKE, and who is never allowed out of the place where one must jettison their hope, if not Pride, isn't abandoned first.

I HAVE NOTICED THOUGH, commercials for Steverino Colbert that are shown incessantly during the 48 hours that my brother watched, I don't know why, they all have the same endings like Com-media dell arte or Tolkien, still, I noted what a mini Marathon on delightful ELSBETH, who has lost her husband and his teacup dogie, and is at liberty as they say, one of the figures I much liked in the Good Wife, who appears my already in bad shape spec script I did about Rachel Maddows hinted at dismissive so as to give GEORGE WILL MORE AIRTIME THAN ANYONE HAS HAD SINCE CAPTAIN KANGAROO, --this never happened as it seems to be on television is the dream we all dream when we are caterpillars or whatever they are and able then to be liberal and not only be paid by a war proffer, but vote for a segregationist, as more than just recalling him a Hyde amendment gadfly and a pervert and a family annihilator as so evil was her, a lack of empathy and all of that, I've known what a bag of shit he was, without having to watch him like Mistress collecting Clinton in his perpetual cold. I do notice though, like the Masters on the day after the crime shows, the police gazette without the warmth has infected now not only the NEWERKER but too the island of the cyclops, his face didn't appear cone behind the all knowing, all seeing Polyphemus eye, not once, all night, and I only took one piss break, as I noticed my brothers targeting to watch it with me, the one Robert Culp like guest star, about the black woman killer, both tonight were alas black and the victim an always scheming wanting to assent wop, not like Seinfeld ever was, shtick where somehow all wops on JERSEY CITY don't deserve the protections of say drag queens, but them , I'm not the one who staid the Romans didn't exist and am not still screaming about being caught dead in the undertow of less than the Mendoza line in politics of being under the waterline, allay the VENICE OF THIRTY percent approval, though, am I....?

Therefore, instead of reading the end of “The neon Bible”, or starting the Uses of literature by Calvino in my hauls from the great middlebrow river of Amazon, I watched the great caricature actress playing Elsbeth transplanted into NEW Amsterdam, AS SOMETHING I COMING IN in medias res AM NOT SURE EXACTLY WHY SHE AND AND ANOTHER PRETTY HALF BREED MULATTO police woman are involved in the best crime show since Steven Botchco had Max from the great race and Daniel J Travanti as once again, Italians who weren't just miserable stereotypes. Again, not once I did I see his face, not that they use it once, but the Germans I believe call it De Passe, and I became engrossed in the story enough to not even so much watch for the jarring face of a Monsignor with a half watermelon smirk, as pop called it, that wasn't there again all night, as I believe this is called gilding THE LILLY.

I recalled, why am not sure, maybe it as reading the sad book written by John Kennedy Toole, as I too recalled entertaining the idea of scholastic contests, some of which I've actually won, forty years apart, almost thrown by Jesuit newsletters and Amazon, to overdo things, like one at Amazon of all riverbeds, with the Etruscan, but not with the gigolos, killer bankers, or roman supermen that no matter what I got in , never got in until Biden started a third act worthy of either Marcus Aurelius, or Leoncavallo, we aren't sure. When I was there at that mausoleum with even less respect for that Quaker pantheon of hillbillies than I have now, all which my pop warned me of so incessantly I thought he was just paranoid, once in those worst days of carter Ism TO WHICH WE HAVE RETURNED, BUT with a not merely incurable and incoherent and Rabbit fearing born again amid the fagots about to salute you as they were about to die in the hallways of left behind discos, Sister Matilda, looking like Shutzie the big armed maid at the Brady's, did like the way in those halcyon days of golden sunshine and new as opposed to non , journalism, that I can turn a phrase like a knife, as I guess as an Italian I can be expected to do nothing less, I recalled being in that hall of heroes, segregationist some, eyes for a under-aged boys and barley legal girls, poker and demon rum they've always been, that assemblage of Jethroes, as show my sister still likes to watch each night here in the ruins of Joe Blow's wreckage, as my Father thought he didn't understand politics as was in over his smiling toothy head, but knew that Cuomo hating Biden was no damn good from jump. I was there in that mausoleum, I didn't think the epiphany maunders when far enough Catullus as golden doors and senate Halls were always meant for at least red paint, and the number thirteen, in living color, but then who ever said we had the incessant and inherent dignity of Catiline's war, as once more Romantic Roman Bill called it, once. We, some kids who may have mistakenly thought I knew were we were going, got into a elevator in the pantheon, this temple the rustic trash has buildered to itself with the unkindliest marble carrera ever burped out. HERE, I SAW THE IMAGE OF THE THEN SEEMINGLY BALANCHINE basis of Howard Beale, Daniel Schorr, the anti Cronkite as he was seen by my Father's immense yellow immigrant's eyes. I decided to be gouache, and speak first as he summed to me to look-i-like, a doppelganger of the grades nun at the time, Sister Cecilia, with a all around whiteness, and pop bottle glasses, and a thicker pout lower lip that seemed to hang there, hair wavy and graying but may have been blond on the last living furrows by that there was. Excuse me, I said as he snapped looking up, as I was a Leslie would call me, a burgeoning oaf, even scary as much even then.

Hellow,...Mister Schorr,...?, I asked, smiling, but had to add him to the catalog of ships who I had met along the pre Jesuit, pre law way. There was no death penalty when i was prelaw, Rachel dear, remember that at the armimentarium , and remember do, who you call bigots at war inc when in fact it was men with names like Biden, Tallmedge and Thurmond and Helms who would in ten years take the Cyclopes island sadly from Willie S, that hero of answered prayers, and bring back the death penalty be signing at least Kelly girls and clerk written amicus briefs proffered to the court to recount and redeem leftists, by brining back hangings and gas chambers. Just as JERRY BROWN HAD RUN ON, look it up, hoping to get all those votes and prayer envelops from Orange county.

I THOUGHT HED BE PERTURBED, or UPSET, but no he was affable to me and the others here, kids to him, in the way that he seemed as much as anything a stand in for all those Franciscans, who dared in a Lutheran world, to believe in something. He moved his coat and attache, and a copy of the New York times, and a copy of a magazine that had on its news print covers always a cartoon of some political figure which looked like it was cribbed from Punch, and held put his hand agreeably and with great grace. Hellow, my boy, girls, he said with a smile I wasn't expecting. Mt name is Anthony Acri, this is Michelle , Denise and Harry, I said, mentioning their names, and he smiled and took their hands as if he was a born ambassador for this prison island that thought itself a new Venice, an atoll of Warren G Harding's tomb landscaped by the Abscam troops, and care-tended by Wilbur Mills and his two bot blond whore of the wading pool. Well, he said nicely, what do you think of our New Vaticannus, Anthony...?, he asked when a girl with me, was it pumpkin-face, no her blond friend as usual for her ilk, Michelle, to which she said, U GOT THAT RIGHT, mister, What is it, Shore...?, I'm sorry I don't watch the news like Tony, she said. Again i was astounded how when speaking of me i was Tony, but again when speaking to me I was Anthony. I am, I said, Underwhelmed. He laughed, you know I am repeatably meeting young men and boys and girls, going to college, he said, They who place on affectations and say things like that, trying to be blasé when they would kill to work at CBS, but you, young man, Something about you, young Anthony, he said, Makes me think you are telling me the truth.

This place gives me the willies, a chubbier than not loudmouth named Renee, a Syrian girl, SAID. HE LAUGHED AGAIN. Doesn't it always , he luaghed again. Anthony Loves the Romans, Michelle said. There are worse he noted, and I smiled back at him. My father will be very pleased to know I met you sir, I said, As to him you were always a breathe of fresh air as compared to that windbag, big mouth commie pinko Cronkite. Heh, he said, Don't get me started about that, CBS just had its fiftieth anniversary, kids, They had I think. He said, A Pinkerton guard outside to keep me out like Monessen, that's where you are from right...? We nodded. But, he said with some older man resolve more than regret, I am doing just fine I guess, --again I noticed there was something about me, a born Petronius, which got the important more upwardly mobile men to confide in me , maybe because they thought it was indeed Monessen I was at, at least then. My father does admire you much, even President Crater, I said using a slur no democrats remember ever now making when Teddy vainly treid to avenge la famillia, He thinks is a Honorable man just in over his head. Nd then , he asked, I'm sure there are others, he said. Here, he took his attache, brief case is always a misnomer to pre law me, and he took a page of his Bosnewash rag paper, and he tore off a corner, which was shocking to me. What is your father's name Anthony,...? he asked. Jimm—i stopped myself, well, Vincent is his bapistry named. Here, he said, Give him this, I don't often sign autographs, IM NOT OFTEN ASKED, but I'm no star...he took a almost sixties to me style Scrip-to pen and wrote in a water-mans azure ink, best wishes, Vincens-Z over that s,o, Daniel Schorr. He then gave it to me. I wont know what to say, Mister Shoor, I was afraid I'd be bothering you, he shook his gray and white and blue veined head, Never one to discourage a fan...he said, Not in these  environs. Youn know, he said, I was just in New York and was at a metricating of Republicans, and they cheered Dick Nixon, like he was a lost centurion from the lost thirtieth legion. The fallen newsman in that age of Capote, he remarked with a story known to me and I didn't say, in a sort of awe of him anyway, about how both AND Gore Vidal, had connections back to that alpine legion of yore, but we weren't a Greek Tragedy that didn't know it was a Roman farce winding down then. He seemed to like to talk to us, almost like a virgule amid the hayseed hillbilly's in Roman drag.

...Dick Nixon, then a gal said, laughing and smiling as they, we, were enthralled, And, he said, I just like you did now, said to hell with it, it's not always a bad move, and went up to him, and he knew who I was, and wasn't some schoolboy from a rust belt mafia school, yes we know all about Monsignor Ficus and his ripping off the Mellon family. He said, AS HE DID INDEED KNOW THE FAMOUS STORY OF THE SMALL MOB TOWN called Little Chicago. I took the chance and I went up to him, and I said, MISTER PRESIDENT —ALL ex Presidents, like heavy weight boxers, HE ADDED, SHOULD always be called champ—Mister Nixon, I said, you may not remember me , but my name is Daniel Schorr and I want to say hello to you and wish you luck as they middlebrows and the phonies, to quite Salinger, KEEP BOTHERING THE MAN OUT OF SOME WAY TO PRETEND THEY ARE LIBERALS EVEN AS THE WHOLE OF NEW YORK IS GOING TO POT. I swear, he said, Oh Gawds, they will lose NEW YORK AND NEW JERSEY IN '80, Teddy might as well have drowned with Koepeckne, and they are still draining off that road. I, he said, went up to one of three dozen so so men to be an American Caesar, and I said I wish you no ill, as well, who knew...we'd end up like this. The Old Machiavellian, uni-vac, cold fish smiled, he said, He smiled. HE, STILL THE PRESIDENT TOOK my hand warmly, Daniel Schorr said, As he never was the cold trout that old apparatchik Don at 6o minutes said he was, and he reminded me that in fact in 1968, the San Clemente white house put out feelers to me to see if I would be the press secretary for the oncoming president as once again, when the secondments get all the levers of power watch out, the knives and the bribes all hit the floor. Nixon, Our Coriolanus, he said, REMANDED ME OF THIS, he said, And I said, well, Mister President, Had I known then that I know now, --he placed an older man's hand out to as if exemplify all which had happened at Blackock, try would become, When a president of the unite states was made a punchline on an All in the family show that used words like SLURS as ...he said with an elevators ride regret, I would have, he said, taken the job. THE bell of the shininess old elevator rang and he got up and wished us well and almost gave me a slight Roman salute as he walked away off the metal into the overdecorate, vainglorious, stagy cheap and weedy Etruscan senate, more ruins than the one they'd just found then a thousand years older than lathe golden doors of Tyberius, and he walked away as I think we made his day as he made ours. HE TURNED, HAVING truly enjoyed the class he gave us in true Roman Cynicism, beware the Trojan Eqquis and how, he turned looked back at us through his thick pop bottle glasses and with pout full he said, That's what happened at CBS, kids, tell you father Antony, Those sobs wanted me to go from being a liberal to a goddamned democrats, which I couldn't do. With that he quickly strode into the bad paintings and cheap imperialism of the Formica swamp.

And, I recalled all of that as I watched the shows Elsbeth, and a undercurrent of anti Wokedness showed me I , like the nuns and my ma warned me, was never so be protected by the fat overfed pigs of the Hollywood Washington bullshit Axis to crazy eyed new York governesses who have a turkey necked, Mildred Pierce CRAM CALLING the poor darkies in Bronx as "clowns" cause no one will listen to them, and how another creepy darkie cvnt with Nora Desmond delights couldn't say Blue state Brooklyn without making it com out rubber baby buggy bumpers. And I was recalled of giving the torn piece of the new York times to my pop, now i am offed a week for thirty five cents, which is what a more literate Batman cost when i was a over literate, shoplifting kid, which sort of made up for my never having told him, as would later see sister Cecilia, that I had been published as a boy in 1980, in fact, about a paper about ROMANS, AND BLOODY PLOWS, BEFORE ANYONE EVER PUT ME DOWN FOR NEVER HAVING BEEN PUBLISHED BACK IN 2007 TO COMIC BOOK SCUMBAGS. When I got up the next day, the house was empty and it was almost 10 am and make room for daddy as I sue such shows to tell the time, and on my desk there was a recite and a card. A one Terra-byte card from Grindstone or some such company, for almost fifty dollars. My brother told me that viscous, VICIOUS, COLORED HATING, corpse Biden had , alike all snookers, --sorry censors, his carney greasy charms are in the well water, gone to just burning whole books and a local pretty Italian artist woman he speaks to, tole him that people are losing whole hard drives of work of the sound effects , i knew and said wed be recrudesce to Don Martin sound effects when there were too many HYDE AMENDMENTS AND EULOGIES FOR GE theater TO SMNIRK for King Vitamin, and who saw all this coming...?, and his mean careered, over lardy, cvnt henchmen who MOSTLY THINK SOMEONE RECALLS WHEN HE WAS INDEED, A CREEPY PIG. Put that in your machine, the brother said, You aren't losing anything anymore. Now, he said, NOW ITS Jewish AMERICAN MONTH...?, I thought, he said with sharpie aplomb, that Juno's days were the queers month of springtime for Alexander, he said, as we have never been as unwitty as David Chase could have made a wise career move. They will, he said, the lender to me of some nuns hated Decameron, DO ANYTHING NOT TO MENTION Sacco AND Vanzetti EVER AGAIN. You're not , he said, Losing anything again. I thought of Daniel Schorr, and how another of pops favorites, Eric Severide was appalled to see what he believed to be a hair to Rome, assembly of kings that had garbage in it like Tallmedge and the trash across the Po Aisle, that would catcall come to him defense and then call people crazy and stupid for daring ask why he'd be at a funeral for Robert Byrd. 

So, I say at this strange Chautauqua meeting down at the river Styx for the Authoritarian thunder god and the lunkheads who play him, I say, as a boy admiring Reginald Rose, Gore Vidal, and Daniel Schorr, as NBC is so in the Hee Haw steins and weeds that they'd bring back Comey, the Hank Kimbell of the superstate, of Megalopolis, that the nest time you sell your souls and the republic down the river, that was for you, Jesuit Boy Bill, I ma , as ma said, unbowed, unrepentant, unremitting and vanquished as more and more than Arthur Lake presidency defaulters, oh look, Di Nero is a hanger on the legal circus, a bad sense of direction, and a bandwagon Arafat, anything to make those people out there in the dahhhk forget black and or wop face, and e is screaming at the crowd, mostly pro trump, the Biden camp has lost its KAZOOS, but then all I need to know about politics I learned out of Plautus. So, as pop told me never be a house wop for anyone, and don't eat the onion soup. A next time you sell your soul, Colbert, captain Kangaroo, that you'd do it for someone who wasn't a superdeligate for George Wallace,... you didn't know...?, and that that river that those were sold down, wasn't the Mississippi as had always believed, but was in fact in literature long before Sam Clemens and his own barbarian love hatred with death, that it was in fact a river named...what else...?, The Tyber.