MEET ME AT DANTE'S STONE, DEAR CLAUDIA.

12 FEBRUARY, 2025.

Since I Was a kid all I ever heard of was that , perceptually from self appointed barbaric trash in Roman drag of civilization, the Romans fell over too many drag queens and bureaucrats, especially from a family of poor man's undead Kennedy from Hyanisport who, as ma would say, covered their Manzonian TORTURE CHAMBERS WITH lace curia's. Now it seems as they amazingly double down as champions of the brother in laws of power, stupidly and with no less than papal nuncios of the Villa of pope Wilhelm, telling them all the CNN horses are indeed empty, or that Narcissus is indeed a Bobby Darrin at the springs, they seem hell bent like a Jones's to prove how right they indeed are and were as their teams fall to smithereens.

Again as showed in an earlier piece about Ride the high country , the assured masterwork, and in the kind of writing of film that did-indeed impress the provosts of film schools than early and not that old, but did enjoy the classical brunt I brought to the then not even a century of old art of celluloid poetics, as was seen once as a nice controposto, if may use and Italian word that Jews who make shitty little now hated by many sit coms may disdain with their barley closeted alchemists of how to make a geek funny, to Scorsese and his life's work, as Noll said, and devotions and vespers were held to engender the love of middlebrows and white women at the sanctimonious buffet, and the out and out detesting by my stoic fadder of that crew, I could once as have said, write often and deeply about film in a way that they often and early on did like before the middlebrows of the new York-er, once made sport of my Anzio recalling mister Mike, although that as before the now slamming papered dons of the mouse factory did try to make everything they bought, no martyrs it's own roman affectation , George, tell me about the wookeis, George, into maddening and prancing vestiges at their various theme parks and sleeping beauty lands , which sadly in mid winter, Bullwinkle a gem of almost Vaughn Bode or Petronius satire is always gone, and a pale cartoon version of the honeymooners has alas taken his place each night, over reasons that I am unsure. So, with nothing really to watch, and growing into almost Fathers distrust and dislike of Hanna and his Barbara, I turned it around late at night, as think I eat a whopper left behind at the lunch, and watched Elsbeth, and was in no mood to merely now go to bed.

Since I Was a kid all I ever heard of was that , perceptually from self appointed barbaric trash in Roman drag of civilization, the Romans fell over too many drag queens and bureaucrats, especially from a family of poor man's undead Kennedy from Hyanisport who, as ma would say, covered their Manzonian TORTURE CHAMBERS WITH lace curia's. Now it seems as they amazingly double down as champions of the brother in laws of power, stupidly and with no less than papal nuncios of the Villa of pope Wilhelm, telling them all the CNN horses are indeed empty, or that Narcissus is indeed a Bobby Darrin at the springs, they seem hell bent like a Jones's to prove how right they indeed are and were as their teams fall to smithereens.

Again as showed in an earlier piece about Ride the high country , the assured masterwork, and in the kind of writing of film that did-indeed impress the provosts of film schools than early and not that old, but did enjoy the classical brunt I brought to the then not even a century of old art of celluloid poetics, as was seen once as a nice controposto, if may use and Italian word that Jews who make shitty little now hated by many sit coms may disdain with their barley closeted alchemists of how to make a geek funny, to Scorsese and his life's work, as Noll said, and devotions and vespers were held to engender the love of middlebrows and white women at the sanctimonious buffet, and the out and out detesting by my stoic fadder of that crew, I could once as have said, write often and deeply about film in a way that they often and early on did like before the middlebrows of the new York-er, once made sport of my Anzio recalling mister Mike, although that as before the now slamming papered dons of the mouse factory did try to make everything they bought, no martyrs it's own roman affectation , George, tell me about the wookeis, George, into maddening and prancing vestiges at their various theme parks and sleeping beauty lands , which sadly in mid winter, Bullwinkle a gem of almost Vaughn Bode or Petronius satire is always gone, and a pale cartoon version of the honeymooners has alas taken his place each night, over reasons that I am unsure. So, with nothing really to watch, and growing into almost Fathers distrust and dislike of Hanna and his Barbara, I turned it around late at night, as think I eat a whopper left behind at the lunch, and watched Elsbeth, and was in no mood to merely now go to bed. 

 

 

The film seemed to just start at , like, 10, and would therefore go on until the gauge said in winter-night shine, until 2, and I was in no mood to see it out , alas brunette Angelical heroine was in this, who a mean and snarling blond loving hag who wrote for a local rag, a cow named Urrichcio, and this was such a laugh line to some queer named Casablanca, of all people, at some gossip show haunted by the ghost of last Capri cortisone even then Babe Payly, the old relic with shellacked hair and nails and undertaker's grace at max factor Cindy whatsoever her name, at some E faggy show about Hollywood types and all, that prissy gossip columns, unlikely the woppish one who place pictures of models up on his vulgarian wall, lest anyone dare think his bearishness he had chosen meant he was as queer as pop tarts, he had sneered at this local writer for calling the heroine of the just found piece, the once pretty and pre witchiepooed up villain of always available for slurs by Jo Ann Warings and her magical canticle of boy loving boys life wanna be witch harry Potter. She would long after this journey to Italy, at which she and a less than prime miss Jean Brody would set down, a woman who looked like she was in the throws of consumption, it was said then, as as merger a showing of her less than bitchy wit that caused the cleft chinned , hair highlighted, smart ass-ed queen of gossipy television to pluck her from Allegheny obscurity and demean a nobody as piffling fagits have since the vomitorium days the Spartans that you know resent and always love to spit downwards as much as a possible.

The film was of a sub genus, a sort of film seen in Roman springs with miss Stones before this one, which already I recalled when first saw this with a father who was soon to leave me then, but I stayed up and watched if only for the image of a pretty brunette amid the mezzegorrnio exquisite light of that apostolic sin, which somehow like the iron deposits of the Tyber and the Master Cherry trees of Pinocchio's forest and groves in Liguria are always there for PBS and their shillers to somehow make it seem as I have seen that nothing the Italians have ever done or did anything more than just the collection of local bundles of reeds which though it the word smeared by some say as fascistic, is indeed the hammer and the ax that was the pre eagle symbol of the Roman republic,sorry Antifa, like the Bush family would;d take the word Vesta out, whether they like it or not. As after all, like Freud and his fear of manias and woman in the dark who make men mad, or made, as naming them mania after them, Marx was indeed like most Jewish Germans something of a Roman buff, as it was indeed always double billing Luther who they truly couldn't stand.

In the film, the woman, girl really still then, was that flower of English womanliness who have had to go to a Roman to evade woman haters since Arthur, who wore roman drag for a exquisite reason. I don't think that Roman Bill has forgotten our miss Maddow reconciling at his calling a coed who caught his eye, or was it liver,...?, at the quad, as he like I must have that nigh noticed that our bed-roomed eyed lesbian of at least chap stick, was so aggrieved over Trump that still she wasn't so devoted as to once in a wile shut up, as we know know they were indeed as I had warned , were being pay'd by the word, the syllable, if they could charge for them, and eye rolls and mugging are indeed the lowest form of politics. Or politicos. But at CNN, Ted comes to praise the bureaucracy not to bury it.

Really even as a boy surrounded by nuns I would have been shocked to see that waste fraud and abuse was yet again, just another pick up line of his own, and how to pick up girls as used by that bloated blow hard rapist Byzantine Bill, sorry, I have fallen off the bandwagon, Praetor Bill, but then as Pa said, when you walk with people who limp...and somehow he didn't survive being this close to the wrong shop at Pharsalia, and indeed the ghost of also henpecked Augie saw enough when you didn't depute the old coot segregationist whose very existence made you say that that era of big gummit was over. But then satire is in my own DNA, not festooned with fake devotions until it as it is getting closer, comes time for GE Theater to jettison whatever black chicks have become too egregious , to the true devotions of the building, selling bombs and toaster ovens. All, which usually happens only days after they dare take the holy sacrament of the revealed word of their holocaust and try to twist and bend it, like an Italian monk, to their own needs and say something Sisyphus liken as in #freepalestine, thus engendering the wrath of having meathead and ed Henry on the same disastrous side. They are having try outs, replacements all, for queers to lessen the blows and the welts of tossing negro broads to the curb in front of the armimentarium, the Bush familia knew all about the street in front of the Flavian amphitheater when I was a kid, and my father warned me of the less than Merchant Ivory movie that was Italay in 1948, as they these white devils who love deaths lashes out in Venice ever remember that those great sets did indeed see, as Catiline warned us, that whatever parades and riots that GE thinks it can engage, manage and even direct, yes rid that trigger I said of Biden sure that he would find some Perseid's that he couldn't survive, it was the law of who pied whom and in fact Bill Clinton got paid and he was paying out, see...?, well, that tripartite flag has seen more than its share of the fiery reds as the greens always manage to try to hide in the fruit Sellers of empire. {how did I know...?}

John Bushema attempt art school 1995

There is now a talking point, less like Jesuit trained debating, as if anyone can do that anymore, and more like one one liner after at the joke wall, Artie, there is not enough compassion shown for the mistresses and make work in laws of senators. Much less the hostesses that they traded up for, like say Layka did and would. It is a call for an empathy, that Bidey never much showed, for anyone, and is misplaced, and is indeed a soft tenderheartedness no one saw anywhere when Clinton the pig in this animal farm, said it was indeed time to be a fiscal hawk over welfare, cause that's what the polls and patron Fulbright away told him so. I watched the film longer than I would have thought it. I watched the sunny environs of mother Italian, that garden and palimpsest of ruination ruins, and too I was collared in by the sight of then pretty, pre witchcraft Beatrice ,still girl with the gate of goddesses pre Chalmers Dickens fag of penny dreadful calling all Italian women as witches like a fag like him might, as she gleamed and shone there as the perfectly settled English girl in these sets of historical farce, a, I thought, lovely woman that a women who was more than willing like various opus to live out her yenta creed would hate. I stayed with this longer than I would have thought so when found it this original day of the recalled beloved dead woman they have had since Cattlius' Claudia, and like I said, the sanctimonious among those who think a page on word press makes them into a new millennium Bennett Cerf, they always suit up and I will always be true to my Moral imperative and always tell off the alleged poets of empire, more Kipling and kippers and imperial London war colleges than not, and will make them recall that self same Catullus that appear and lives for me in those ancient ruins of columns made out of sandstone women now replaced by the war contumacious radio city, tragedy city tower of true mercenary,where satire and blood money gets to, if not die, fall to the phlegm of plandemucs unsought through. When do bring up Cattlius and his Venus hand made epics and shined stones, and they never spit back at that, though I am unsure why that would be, but then I was taught how to make an argument by the brethren, whose black and white pope is alas, we are starting to hear is dying away in the hospital that those who traffic in the virgin Mary and brought to when the bees wax of candles falls mute or at least enthralled.

She was here the girl the she of even the attempt at Roman epic and Italian often hated, but more so admired and even wistfully needed by English men of a Cartesian class, as it is the hanging gardens of exiled Ovid that slickest Willie did not only get his Oberon and his faeries of a midsummer;s night, smiled or not, but too, it was there that the witches of Macbeth also were birthed, which amusingly in our lessening and even evaporating time of wokedness, seems to have bothered more racists sorts than they have ever admitted to being. With a mane of hair showing the incursions of Caesars legions going back, if not the bivouacking of Hannable before he said a Punic Feh to that happy little island, her darker look not used to so much Conan Doyle showers, and a litheness of a Siren in a Gustav Dore fairy take illustration, I felt saddened to think she would eventually be wicthiepoooed up by being sued as a prop by that cartoonist goon, Cal arts wannabe, Gahan Wilson pretender, who had remade her, who had won that role of a latest vestal down to an always white dress, again shed be blackened up with hubby's inkiness sure enough, and like the miss Jean Broadie with her always as enlist matron of scared cattiness when not as in Carol Burnett, playing an Anglican tart with her a real cuteness, both indeed would get closer to the Maccers witches than anything, one good and one bad, of course, from Jo Ann depending upon what colored hair they were born with.

With hours to go in the Roman month of recalled bibles and beloved dead, replaced by a media of war consortium and Grimm's streaking mouse factotums with a black Castillo painted an always strange and even marti gras , princely Purpled, the planetarium of the medievel days of darkness so adored by that Klan and English professors, at which I have heard from well wishers and the ungovernable radials not willing to sell their soul to the bombs away leftists, came again to the fore as it has a want to do in our decline and fall. At the tower at which batterings rams are made to war engineers specifications, and at which many a Cato doth ever say a warning of Caesars triumphalism stealing Rome's heart as long as his is able to pimp without spilling his godly blood on the floor, a Jesuit preacher did tell me I had a Roman antibody in me, a ruin and vestige of the house of Agricola, an Etruscan warrior, but then as Gore Vidal can attest when once connects themselves back to that standard those who openly believe in freedoms land being a shire at which at least the chosen are allowed marriage rites, it can go Morley to the viking lovers to which Bilbo of ours should have never listened to such German balderdash and made up maps colored with paperback tea. At the sandstone towers, that used Toscanini and then Carson later to cover and draperies its war attuned stances, well, using that line I sued since a boy, Satire was what bleeds this time on Sunday night, as the anniversary of SNL was a dreadful slog I read, and all I could think watching a smidgen of it was we miss you mister Mike.

Its is already noticed that coming home to roost malt breed Maya –but not the roman goddess mind you but the more noble savage sorts I am sire, Rudolph, who was indeed the paper bag princess alleging Laugh in relic Lorne to give it to those who deserved it , like Oprah, and to somehow for some reason the sister of of a slain Italian dressmaker who dared have the impunity and the Gaul to be massacred by a wayward fdaggot,and like as in Manzo—sorry, Moscone, that can not be tolerated by again Jews in the armementarium's foyer. A channel perhaps getting even showed at their own prime time celebration of this long moribund show, that one done by castaway Larry David, who again I have stalwart rather liked, as when one becomes a millionaire shoving nothing at the people in so ostentatious a way, any satirist worth his saltpeter will indeed come to know that alas, hes a winner too, and will bade their tongue in the perpetual pit and pendulum for others known as ass dark and not black, comedy. I mean, Al Franken doesn't get to not be a writer at the National Lampoon and then take a thirty year John as the buddy sorrel of auditorium sketches and bel Arabs by not making sure,a s Ovid said, he is always the first one censored, of not reminisced, which I guess is a Roman joke even he would allays get.

I sat and even my brother, a hater of that show seeing it and Lorne as a come on artsy theater that which somehow derailed me from my own Georgetown destines , although I have told told him he was gone by then. But he said the basics of the argument was there, and sharper than me and more jeuistcial then I, that's all anyone really needs. Seeing a biography of Chris Farley as Belushi with more sweetness and as much fatso pain as any Arbuckle ever had, still, seeing Al Franken still doing an interviewer from his crown Vic , squeezing you in as an ex senator, frozen in first term-er back benched life, might, again, we miss you Mister Mike, who explained it wasn't anti semetism, just anti Jewish borscht belt humor that made the lampoon so great, and alas even as a boy I was Bored of the rings , something that driven around pig man Franken I suspect would never do.

And this night, as comedy wasn't pretty at all, but had a need it seemed for at first Viagra, and now a transfusion, as mayor of Encino Tom Hanks called the Trump voters, you know, the popular vote, recast which is funny as elitism is after all a cage, he would storm out soon enough, showing just how sanctimonious one can become when started his career in sanitized ABC drag. And May, in a fit of sanctimonious selfishness, why she wasn't at all those inprov shows at second city or as a grounding or wherever for nothing, though with COVID, that is soooooo before a segregationist lived out his Aurelia third act, she showed up and blew air kisses and such at all the collected geriatrics shoved into a room that was filled to capacity, without Bugs as Leopold to get even with Giovanni Jones. But, I thought, it would serve them right if this time, satire dndt just bleed on sayirday night, was alberfet Brooks there...?, but would in fact, exponentially fill up with piss and be given an almost deleterious respirator, as Martin Short who again was coined by Carson as funny, and he was not a fan of this , using his writers friends line, that NBC was alas thinking of doing a comedic version of Saturday Night live. I love how somehow dark isn't a pejorative as much as black is, and still get well insisting gals telling me to tone it down, to whac be thriown from the snate because Goerge Will loiiiked at me cross eyed, ah there is a floor!, no, no cause, if I was ever actually thrown from any of somnambulism he has haunted since the shah wasn't his friend, now that would be worthy of Livy, or one of the books that somehow Clinton got away with saying he adored.

Again with hours to go now in the month of the dead, that self same planetarium did give the Sejanus hatchet, we still call the cutting and at the football stadia a Turk after his jangling simivar, Lucius Sejanus, as alas, immigration isn't all that white women reek it up to be as need someone to clean their toilets, well, a black woman named Joy Reid was given the old pink slip, and told, deliciously to me, to be banished from the tower of Jeanie and Cowboy Bob. she cried like a woman would, me and bill are the last stoics, sad enough for you, but what did you expect from, an armimentarium that adhere to the lessons of compassion as taught by the Aquinas of Robber Welsh...? the way we live now. compassion for bureaucrats, better you had cried once for Italian grandmas once or twice.

 

Such is the third act, or catastrophe when one starts to believe that the dons of light bulbs are aye different than they were as Father Gore told is when Ronald Reagan too full of his own bullwhip dared speak ill of the Tennessee Valley Authority LIGHT AND SPINNING ELECTRIC MATERS TO THE FRUITED PLANE LIKE A DOUBLE BILLING PROMETHIUM, hey who is that again who flies over the Rockefeller center Christmas tree in a miasma of paganism that the barbarianism, as Tacitus said, sing of Hercules in Germany, again....? Anyway she was unformed as I knew and said somewhere shed be when she dared to say, all Charles rocket and shit, that Biden after all , his only attribute as being not Donald Trump, always a dealt knell in politics ask Cassius, bitterer such works, as Octavian Bill is always bewildering on the piers of Ostia, and she dared to say , like it was a insult of some kind, that this old man was an Effing warmonger, and effing wasn't the disrupts word to the company that indeed made a million dollar a day from what else, the TVA, for which Roland Reagan apologized and said as much he had this time, shot from the hip, as he always casting wrote a flier to Gore Vidal, sung he could mimic every great republican he needed to and would be the prefect Nixon, Joe Cantwell in The Best man, or even the Eisenhower charioteer if need be, but alas was turned down, though even gore later said, he would have been great at it, as he made a better Machiavelli than he did a Lorenzo. A wild fire, as it Were, started, and even always , well not always Keith Marcus Antonius Rachel was there to speak sonnets to the dead, or worse than that canceled, irony abounds in a decline and fall, but then, this was never liberalism, or god forbid radicalism, as much as it was poaching off blow hard, Negros see sometimes it is the word just is perfect, Miss, and others to never ask about the ethics of drone war fare or how panned obsolesce went to the front, hoo rah. Its amusing to my brother watching Bannion , a Jesuit student he noticed, give this woman a bigger audience than she should have had, Darwinism is all, that she doesn't mind being fed by racist hands, so tell that to your buddy Keith Olberman, he said, whose falling from bombing grace was barely noted by she and of course, he didn't check the boxes that she needs to get things shipped. As the month of the noble dead now more implemented than they thought as much damn the dago plebs of and Di Remini tragic and comic heroines of New Jersey for not voting for their beloved kamikaze Camilla, AND THEY SPANG INTO ACTION, at the armimentarium, LOOKING FOR SOMEONE WITH A SOUL TRAIN HAIR CUT, still, with hours left to go, Jon Stewart who came back at the worst time, tragedy is comedy plus timing, and the applause meter used by the Ted Mack is on the fritz, he was so angry at the goys and the plebs fr not being able to lift him as he had come used to, that he in full torch song melody, all he need was a boa, actually cut open his own hand with a worlds worst TV dad mug, and I was hoping for a Danny Ackroyd like french chef skit in which either real or fake blood came spilling out until he glossily crumbled to a desk of news which is something only this Jewish clown seems to use anymore as black anchorman Lester was also purged. did i ever mention that it was finding my brother's beloved Wally Wood EC comics and brothers Mad that changed me from a good little boy...? But I love Roman devotion, don't you....?

I sweep the nuclear dusts behind the leaden door.