ACRI RADIO COMIX

WHENEVER I SEE THE SPAWN OF BARBARIANS TAKE DOWN A

STATUE OF Columbus to kiss their own balls, i always hope someday some
well meaning white trash cow put up a statue of Sacco and Vanzetti a holiday i
fear that no good liberal ever wants to need or see…
although with Kamilla at single digits in NY…there is strangely an
anti Catholic bent to this hag and her vestals like Witmur, which I’M
sure when they make commercials that she'll be on the same side as
Darth and Peppermint Patty Cheney, that is as honest as they’ve been…
as saw her in mid cackle and with beer breath call it indigenous
peoples day, of course the barbarism who lecture the world about how
good they are,Unlike some i have tried to return magic realism and fantasia
artistry their roman and italic roots, as somehow, people like FF
Coppola and Martin Scorsese made a nice living out of making sure
that the British were somehow ancient and the Sicilians were not.
Asi said getting a like along the line amazingly from the man who wrote
Game of tribes, or thrones, whatever, George RR MARTIN, i THINK HIS
NAME IS, AND QUOTINGS. Lewis, THERE IS NOTHING IN TOLKIEN
that I DIDN'T SEE IN ITALIAN FOLKTALES FIRST, AND TOO,
when asked at a site about such things why it was all these middle earths
seemed devoted to the medieval, i
said, that was simple enough, that’s when Ariosto wrote. As i could
be a bitch and see that when i was a boy, the nuns did tell me that
when the hags and witches, stregas all spoke of women, they didn't at
all mean my mother or any women related to me or anyway like me. HEY
MEANT A BARBARIAN COVEN, AH EVEN IN THE Seventies,
there was still among the older nuns and relatives, demeaned to this very day,
scars of barbarian forests, as prissy little Barry comes out and thinks
that hectoring black folks on Cheney's side is indeed his life work,
i say proudly, that on 1 October, Roman timing is my greatest vice,
that i said indeed that i wouldn't be showed to see that vaunted CBS
would indeed get theirs , as they have, and are, as a clown portends
He is a face in the crowd. As opposed to Mob, cause i said, that the
cyclops would get theirs over fining woke means never having to ixnay
Tulsa King.
And to be the auger as i warned, as signally the
praetorian find ethics, dear Kamilla is finding out that to the Bush
family cotillion imperil , there is nothing worse than Roman Roots.
as usual, Maya Rudolph is always there to trash whatever brunette
they tell her to. or someone reason and Italian woman sister of a
slain dress maker had to be given her comeuppance and maybe before
it's over, Michelle, too.

But, a great moment did occurred as a cackling hag who wishes to run
for president in a manner closer to the Kremlin or the Vatican than
any new Rome, as she is in mid flight, mid fire, and cums on a
flaming broom spinning out of the sky, our headmaster, dean of
Jesuits boys, Brother Bill did indeed show up on what she referred to
as INDIGENOUS PEOPLE DAY, AS WHEN YOUR TRIUMPH IN NEW YORK
AND NEW JERSEY IS easily within single digits, one should be able and
exacted to demean and detest the italics like say the Bush family does and did
when they tried to de=latin-ize English as they had when I was a 15 year old.
Well, prodded by no one and talon it all upon himself,
Brother Bill, returned to his own Roman roots, and made a point to go
to the weeds of stolen GEORGIA, BELIEVE IT OT NOT HE
WAS CALCULATED A DEMOCRATIC PRESIDENT WITHOUT
GEORGIA, AND THERE, Jethro in full Roman affectation,
worthy of grasslands and knight --it was theirs too, sorry Mr. Bush,
BUT THERE, HE DID SOME SURGERY WORTHY OF A
SMILER WITH A KNIFE, AND CUT THEM ALL TO RIBBONS,
AND MENTIONED A NAME UNALLOYED AS EVERY pleb victims Marius
feet chafe for, and he basically said a tragedy and more than one,
wouldn’t have happened
had, you know, this illegitimate little plagiarist D student and his
make up for Anita Hill, knew what they were, like Maureen, doing.
So ,as the dreadful afternoon hacks are made into a comical ad enforced
by Trump, passion is catching, it wannest indigenous peoples day, not
with these polls, but in fact an Italian revitrovi of Columbus day,
as like the postponed pen dissertation about Machiavelli donned by
that awful rag, the Newerkeer, they hate that but aren’t bigots WAS
ASSURED, i know who hated Columbus first and it was indeed that
church of petaphiles and papal statesmen, and it was dear Bill who
like an Etruscan daemon rose up from the fissure in the earth by
Mantua, make that the day of italics when you must as white woman
show your automatic patronizing, Roman Bill, at least could take no
more, and like the Romans at the end of GIBBON CAME MARCHING
THROUGH Gaul AS THE RAG TAG ARMY THEY WERE
BIRTHED AS, and again, standards tattered but flying, CBS clown
nowhere to be found but grumbling again, as it was alas Columbus day,
because once again, a Romantic. The primer boy rose to hurl mud a
t the imperial wall.

[

how did I get this image published in this summer boomlet when in fact as I said, they took old man Bidey

and indeed did put him in a bag and toss him into the Tyber...? well, when asked if this was an affront

to the sanctimonious among us, the noble savagry , I instead said, why no, this is Cammila, the

Calabrian Amazon in Virgil, and earliest Sabine girl. oh in that case, i was as told by some editor that is

different then. ]

There is an apocryphal story, a Franciscan, who loved ROME, an
AFFLICTION GIVEN TO ME MUCH LIKE Bill Clinton is a breeder of syphilis, t
hat one story was taken out by the great censor Augustus,
who as later and now with the death of Virgil, made into a chief
vizier to translate and transcribe the works of as he is mentioned
in the play A man for all Seasons the greatest of lawyers whatever
was. That at the tow ropes of Troy, to which it was them and not the
fem-my puffy Greeks that the Romans tithed themselves to, as opposed
the Iraqis to the Jews by way of a possible family annihilator being
warned off by Gabriel HERMES OF SEMITES, TO CEASE AND DESIST
KILLING HIS OWN SON FOR THE sky god who begrimed excellency
in the cirrus, that it is said
on of the first passages to go, and that couldn’t be
kept, was simply, that at the end of the Trojan war, two men who had
fight ambivalently and not as cover Greeks, always best to die a
moan, a Bill could tell you, than live off as Bidet and hope the
curia remits, that these two pre roman legionaries, the first Romans
as it were, were horrified at the large wooden horse that Homer, a
thought criminal, recalled a jewey cleverness for the earthquake
that was sty seen for eons as their gods being on the always right
side.
Well, another soldier about to boat-lift to italy said about to
escape with the still then human Aeneas who power would corrupt as
Macrobiotics and latter theater goers wouldn’t never understand, and
still human and humane enough to carry his farther down the briers,
to the nova Anatolia, Italian, that was the first new world ever
seen, the soldiers asked the other caked in blood and muck and mire
and sweat and tears and war not ever as glorious as Virgil would make
it seem and thus pay the price , see john Bolton and his bloody
discharged stuffed vomitorium us obvious, like the Jesuits thought,
pulp fiction vulgarity an anathema to DAR Hillary, like a brunette,
ah Barry’s first mistake was putting in a woman who looked too much
like a maid or a later BRIDE at Kennebunkport, get the paper bags,
Dick, OH DIDN’T KNOW YOUR PLACE,...? There are those who never
see the glory of the story of galore and blood of war, god help some,
they love it all so. ULTIMATELY being at home is a frightfully
draconian thing to do and be, and I don’t remember these lute Rhinos
being anywhere near Micheal Dukakis or Mario Cuomo or Geraldine,
or on and and the catalog of ships that George Will skuttled meanly and
prissily before his road to Demascus went through 30 Rock for its war toll,
at any moment. And, he asked the argent in a scene closer to chimes at
midnight than saving Ryan, Was it worth it,,,?, , and the embroilment
historian Virgil, more than a mere fag poet, had the Aeneid corporeal
say, giving the game away, merely a terse, pre Roman in its womb, No.

[this part written in the style as I could get to Cattilus 64, read often as a kid,

although come to think of it, like my brother said, I may be casting pearls before swine.]

I thought of this story, probably more Roman than any Greek would so like, and Augustus,

the henpecked Jupiter made sure it was taken out, too many Scorseses out there, my father

warned me of a letter allowing no admittance but an interview at Stanford, as in Italian I

was to be complimented enough, and so I still root against whatever tree the druids of the

crumbling transit portal still use. I thought of this story, as saw as did many, that when at

an imperial funeral, the two affirmative action and anti busing praetors seated there in a pew,

grumbling away about their effete imperium coming to nothing, and there was equal BILBO,

NO Marius, I must be kind, and fair, there he was telling these two idiots, hey morons,

doing his best Moe, WE MISS YOU David Steinbergh, cool it, cheese it, just shuddpa upa yew

mouth as Boris would say, its a funeral for a matriarch of Ovid' s giants of the earth, you two

f ups. A Moment of decorum among the weeds. I think you lost this election the night that NBC

pigs, so have some decorum, the night that a NBC cadre just howled it up at their Paris

olympia, so perfectly cast again, as an italian woman, who else...?, would be almost

bludgeoned to death, revealing again behind all of this was a love of violence and muck

always had by d student creeps, as sister Barbara Ann had warned me an epoch ago.

Milling towards with their own troubles at the peacock, not too black play by play men just

adoring a drag queen age called the decadence of ROMANS BY THE COLUMBUS HATING,

AND Leif Erkison adoring Bush family has always sued the left hijacking Darth and

Peppermint Patty to always SWEEP THE DUST BEHIND THE IMPERIAL, BRONZE, DOORS.

ah, the senate is crumbling, did the clowns at midnight get advised that the minstrels are so bad

that Bob Casey now shows commercials in Allegheny county that he was not an ally of BIDEN,

but was siding with TRUMP, ALL ALONG....?

As the Senate turns, and i can think of no better Roman coda than that for the happy Bellona

with all its Roman antecedents as one can always go back to the Venetian map that, as Ovid

speaks of a southern hemisphere, but then the pollacks adhere To their Copernicus. Show of a

kind of omerta was shown, as signora Fortune, as fared by him as any woman ever has been,

her spangled one piece, sequenced and bedazzled, and her wing which can at the stomp of a

medieval Italian shoe, they invested the high heel, well, they erase anyone at the imperial stage,

they flutter for thee. Sweetheart, Kammila, I'm no operative but, when New Jersey is sinking,

just do the fuking Tonight show, go to the catholic dinner, keep dickless ken doll

Barack Obamain his box, and most of all, just say a goddamn happy Columbus day.

The wolf in the church, still, is named Marius.

It was my writing of a boyhood play amid the BBC orgy

of Englishmen playing Romans and Italians from the ruins

of the shire, and that told me exactly my childhood was over

and the rejection first showed there

meant there were no more nuns left to impress without

dropping my pants,So, that was no Antony and Cleopatra in Roman drag,

in that vomitorium Roger Ebert spoke of as October, as all i know who is that

Gummadi Harris stopwatch, sorry, Stevie

he who railed against madam Pollozi that night because his overfed sister couldn't

be a house of deputies cloak room passavnate,

a video of which, that i can find no where,be though more circumspect with the

praetors will welt lie in state, as father Gore said,

as they might not big foot you as they did when you wanted to get on

that school bus, dearie, was up before Tulsa King came on.

Those are no Romans…it's Halloween.

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

27 OCTOBER 2024

I have , like many, been under the ether all year, it seems. Of course i thought as a boy, where else could you be, but then i was the smart ass kid who did in fact my mother would recall just before she left, was the Jesuit adored boy who asked as a five year old, already a lover and a devotee to the untattered standard, i asked, well, to the Episcopalian who cared for a god for white trash, where indeed is the letter of saint Paul to the Germania …? Or was that a letter left to a real senator and not a mere praetorian in mere throat cutter needed vindication and the sort of redemption such always seek, cuter as i called even saints like as that horrid woman called him, without the jist, Paul of Tarsus before she dared tell us like the daily show goon how to vote her way,..then…?

My brother went on a Sunday morning as it been hard for me to get up lately, and he gave me a box, in it, a lower class , but new nonetheless Acer laptop, unprodded by me, as i didn't certainly want him to spent like 400 buckaroos on any newer machine. He playfully, stagey, cried out loud at this , and told me to please go beg for alms, and be careful to clean out my stigmata, as ma could say and I've spoken lately of blood poisoning and he has perhaps heard it. But, i was very touched and thankful as he said a familiala devoted happy Saturnalia, and i opened the box to a chromebook i had told him i didn't want, as still craft my fathers Italian generator DNA, which he said was a con job and didn't live to see Stockholm take it all away from crick, so again, we are as Italians smarter than the average lovable dolts whats you see in cable television. or in the case of Bobby de Nero, played king of tragedy to its bitterest end. I suppose at least on television age Macy's it has already become Christmas, what with some trees called Balsam already sold and have been selling since, like my Leonid birthday.

I opened it and had fun with it, as I am writing this on this vary machine, but i assured him that indeed when get my regular computer on line again, it will be his to use, to which the elder brother ,sharper and yet more romantic than i, who read Ovid in a yellow covered sonnet booklet that, believe it or not i refused to do to go to Georgetown, as had an inkling there were Bilbo's out there amid the towers of JRR , and if not worse, a Barry the fairy here and there reading the Conan's marvel Jew comics that I eschewed at least getting that much admiration from the nuns who weaned me what kind of boys read that drivel, and still do. I do have i thought Haloween fatigue , worse each year without ma, as i did too try to avoid the whole Watchmen age of comics because my pop went on a Sunday too right before an other Roman holiday the Christers took ford their own silk sleeves, again if not worse, as the scene the catacombs, the rectories have been bee-hived with closets. And I did have fun somehow with the small ish laptop, more than i thought, but saying i was setting it up for him he made a sign as if pulling a broken arrow out of his side. He hates my want and love of being seen as something of a saint. At least i don't work ford a company that makes drones and flying guillotines that can be programmed to take usually Arabs, for eventually anyone, and tear them to ribbons all the ides of march but alas without the Antony to cry amid the splatter, and is certainly not shown on morning Joe. wait and upset Lucy and Desi in the morning show…? there is a intesne love of war here that is , my mother n outed towards the end, when she at first thought Trump a mere NBC programming con like getting get Smart on its air, that I must say the m ore I see of this, I think she was again as Italian always are while Jews are always shocked, might be true.

So fatigued with Halloween as some where with Clinton and though never said with Bidey, ah the one thing he did manage to miss, really old man, Reagan comics was a ut down, but i , at least didn't expect better from you, Jove knows. After Green acres when television had dignity as have regulated all political chat shows to Ed Henry and some Stinchfeild if on, as i must wonder what went through that fat little piglets mind at A BIGGER CHECK, when after four or so years of preening hat he was a liberal , now that the trampoline was put in dry dock, how sanctimonious the pawn , much less queen on the chessboard Kamilla would not do his or the drunkards versions of the Sammy Maudlin show all those friendly fake laughs left in the bag i one saw as a boy in a novelty shoppe, which is what these heirs to Carson dared pretend they were. But then, the remote went out as it must be recharged in the back of the idle magazine , I guess, batteries are verboten i guess, but since apple does toss the money around when they have it, like somehow abortion and war being juts fine with the over fed lesbians of the Hadrian's wall, its is hard for us stupid wops to keep up, although as i have said out there , again back to my days as a wise ass, alls i know is that Kamilla the slightly more orange than Moms Whoppie would like, Kamilla the cabal rain amazon, was alleged ahead before Rocky the flying wop became yet again a mob boss in the perpetual casting of mount purgatory, i was going towards the sports show, why i am not sure,, but still stay up later now that i don't get up that early anymore lately, and instead of Pompeiani and whatever dink from fan radio he had on, it stayed stuck and out of power on Movies channel, which again, a missing ma has made me avoid , except from any Vincent Price on Svengolee and too, saw a cute brunette broad b wrought in with two queers as nosferatus, who frankly, I can do without. But instead of the Other , one of those shitty omen movies that Richard Donner did before hitting gold with Superman, that hero even on krypton there must a Plautusian Sicily, that Sly Stallone was not allowed admittance not that i hate Chris Reeve, like Lynda the personification of a comic book hero, still though, it was some of these awful same era movies in which a dark mass was going on, and blood was as ubiquitous as of course. this was showing that must have been a hammer movie as even Anglican garbage must adhere to its own integrity. I think that was one of those that the great sadder than even in that Ernie Borgnine, Marty for lord's sake was in, and all i thought about the supposed evil is that, despite homilies from the dreaded Morgan freeman or the scandium bush family, 40000 souls were not burnt to death at Masada.

Not wanting to hear the tongue of Virgil used by these shysters and holy wood trash and their incessant love of skull and bones types, i went outside as i sometimes do, as should have left it on the quick Steal-er–did you notice that creepy smirking queer, again a purposeful misspelling of the censors of imperial grace, did Colbert sue my line Keith, dear…?, i fear there is with him much trouble in the fuselage. But a Tomlin special at 10 o'clock of 6 to 3 wast quite the heroic qualities of gladiators, no centurions, more said and the blood meant more than mere entertainment, my Roman heart approves, hell it wasn't even Fatso Art Donovan. But now, quickly i had to avoid the black mass as i was taught by ma to always do, it was just another Jewish paid for homage to all that the bush family and its minions ever thought, anyway, but i wanted no part of it, avoiding it so much as to cover my eyes, again, i am a saint of sorts.

Just to get to the dollar and avoid this maelstrom of detergent blood, i did look up in time enough to see a ferret for something, stabbed, a shame you couldn't make the Satyricon itself to diminish a great society, one that Hillary has never voted for god knows, as i knew i had to avoid this anti catholic weedy, white trash grange, even though as a boy i knew that the Catholics were all a bunch of petaphiles, anyway. Although speaking of such, i sure hope that negro coach who has done nothing but lose to good teams and beat up the weak, as opposed to Paterno, i sure hope we get to the dregs of what was going on to woman and girls in that programme by the end of the long, long, tawdry, mis-scheduled season, don't you…?

Outside, I stood in the cold, and it was a late October cold, as I have perhaps due to the taking of various statins now, and it was quiet and maybe this was where these moments of magic realism did emerge. Maybe i had seen too much of the realest ribboning i think it is called, of the Office, a show by liked by me Ricky Gervace, and i must perhaps ford Xmas day get the whole DVD set as i must be better than this though i have an empathy for Steve Corell in this, though indeed he is one of the brunette men, and never the girl who through the daily show, destroyed if bot American politics, than certainly satire. This show, though i buzz and and out of it, seeing Ed helms as its death knell, the worst part is the fulcrum that i cannot believe Little Rickey ever sold out to, though why i don't really know, as i too would love to write one thing in five parts or so, and then sell it to the peacock monstrosity ford like ten years of checks as that beast social security! No, worst is the love affair they sold out to, who bound together on their shared love of torturing Dwight , again he steals the show, and keeps his dignity Ala Ted Knight as the true anchorman, as some don't, not shockingly stereotypes rule the roost, and they are atrocious ! Ohhhhhhhgggh, one is a smiling giggling little heroine, with titan hair and gleaming teeth and whipping their curls around and laughing and sparkling, and the other is the receptionist. Yucky, even that seemingly on a 24 hour loop on Cozi i think, is better than this black mass where the English hopes of drinking someone's blood is made slightly more by rote than usual.

everything in this post was published somehow.

There above me , while a crew of sorts danced and regaled to a spun old platter called Time, but boy George, maybe to show that there was something more ,well, mean an vituperative to the drag queens of now as opposed to then, and while this was happening with a kind of almost carnival attitude i saw the great and be cautious Wendy-Sybil as she had been the haughty and lovely Virgil oggled in this long piece anyway. But, it's as cold as she stood there amid the mess and ruins that America had become, as i wondered i had never seen anything like this, that a man, our Galllinus BIdey had been so incredibly dangerous, that he was as i had never seen before not only as willing to be vicious and get his revenge when things didn't go his way or the enemy had won, whoever for that matter that was, but was in fact always willing to be vicious and vituperative and draconian to people of his won a nation while he was even in power and that to me seemed to go against some Machiavellian rules that Whoppie and her band of horrid women had never conceived of as being sacrosanct. I had heard that the wife, Livia 2; had had it out with him and that indeed gold him in no uncertain gum add terms that he was never liked by the leftists, and why on earth of all people, he would allow the nation be handed over to that woke cretin ark, well, she had no earthly idea and thus, left from the escalate of paper seals, she had indeed had been seen pushing the sunless corpse out of the effing way. The woman girl a cross between a penthouse poet and Mona Lisa, stood there in a white candidate fur over her immaculate legs, as seeing this a young man more a roman translate vestigial more than any now acceptable darg queen of the democratic national committee had a player at hand with an Italian mandolins as pop who was i was assured concert worthy on such guitars, maybe it was a younger pop in this music of the spheres, i couldn't tell, playing his virtuoso shrills and glissando, although it might have been the Roy Clark, who i had just seen on a Beverly hillbillies that Colbert pretends somehow never mascaraed the CBS eyelids. NO i know the transvestite, yes i am true to the roman and the Italian , if one must be a perfect, if one must be priest and a cleric and a pervert, at last a midst that there is at last a Roman goddess who has somehow given a less kiss of the spider women more Leonard Bernstein jazzy whispered words of Ovidian monolith to it all.

And she shimmed through the cold air, in-touched by it all. A wind came up and showed more of her DEA body, although her ermine fur did not fall off as much as reveal her precept legs. I could actually what from some strangely open window, how this attempt at magic realism works at least if one is Italo Calvino and not a complete fraud like Gig Marquez, i did hear Mona Lisa and mad hatters, which may have come from the now laptop and the you tube channel i had allowed to stay open as i was out here in the cold.

"that's the last time I go to a Clinton rally thinking its his. "

There above us all was the Lucy and Viv like vote for mister money billboard that worked over us all, but this time puce’s of torn and ripped papers was reading in cheap klieg light shining upon it, vote Casey, with a bunch of plastered papers making a disagreeable face of the idiot man who's turning bee hive angry and rageful and mean i had documented bothering some back in Saturnalia in the ruins, published in a spasm of post July realization we live in a papal states of mind, which i have gotten published this year of vendetta. I had said he , when i had watched that only murders in the building that first cold night, and enjoyed it, that i saw old man Casey, a prince-ling of the sport that is the death of empires all, he had gone for a first time since Barbara Hafer , a nurse he demeaned when he was anti abortion,... weren't you all…?, but gotta win the T for daddy sometimes, and he placed a paid political ad during the winder before a that brings DA flowers DAT bloom in DA may primary and i, always with a sense of where these things are headed knew this whole thing was going belly up, as it indeed has in fact done. She leapt off the scaffolding as maybe pop, as younger man had accompanied her with his own parents strings, as i shared with him a love of the bodacious brunette, as i stood then, like a Brutus her own self, she has been better at destroying Caesars than becoming one as the road to Damascus , much less roman Lupercalia has always been one that she can't get down or up early unlike Virgil’s road to hell used tow catch him as he as a n old man watched Lisa Todd when she was the moonbeam par excellence on hee haw when i was a kid on Saturday nights. A gust of wounds came up and in fact , more pages of oil of olay commercial when i was a kid, pieces of double power chin of Casey came off and fluttered in the wind to affect the image of him himself as now it seems the worker bees of empire are not accustomed to being held in contempt like this, and there are no usual arguments that they can seem to make with live is the 21st century out there leavening handkerchiefs everywhere and tell them , with her Ernest, little, mattina slippy eyes to have them all go down a rabbit hole as the idea of a brunette in a black pants suit with that size of mistress breasts is more than she can bear. When Kamilla proved she was no Italian woman much less an amazon, and took the bait, I had an inkling she was more than done, as her silver armor couldn’t white hold her stiff and whole. Toll get what you deserve now is aid, no personal animosity to her, and just glad a colored woman had taken the precious praetorium from a goon who always sided with the southies, in a way that the woman overfed and licking their lips of chicken delight, call her and see her as the help.

And little more, as all strategy, Caesar said, is contingent on something, which is why nothing to him was ever sacred. Including the opening day of parliament when all should be in good form.

Suddenly, as i stood there in the late evening cold, it was about time for this, though it has seemed to make the trees infernal in color, even seen in the back-draft of some lights from the street that is here and nowhere, as Wendy stood there near the sign a relic already and a first to go negative in the past winter, and where is father Christmas i stupidly thought before he and his wife Mary Worthless showed a compassion and a caring more, well, diabolical than anything, i saw an image of black against black, motion against the receding grays. It's like how one can see a rat in the pitch black dark.

I passed the sunning it seems, or mooning as it were girl there, and followed the assassin image, past a sign that said Love canal as in a cartoon both hated and published the year of many acceptances, and whatever the motion was seems to make his way past the street revelers, past them and to a buttress of slate and stone that seems to have been forced up here in the myriad of riots that CNN thought if not was journalism, at least breathless television. Here I finally saw him, as almost rat-like he turned and kissed and squinted against the street light, as lights as not ever his friend. It appeared to me to be of all shades of people, an imagery of Dick Chaney, whose very mention in this campaign when it didn’t need or want to be said, said much about the caliber of the dying res publica. He wore a garment that was half Harry Lime and half the Shadow, although, now that I think of it was more Truman Capote in that magazine bought for me by my sister when she and I and pop went to the city news one Saturday night to buy the Sunday papers. The was something stage , as in trruuuuman, about this figure, like he was trying at b eyeing menacing, but alas was in the ends more of a chicken hawk than anything else he could or would be, affected as much as anything, and hardly the Graham Green anti hero that Orson took as the greatest cameo of all time, and the science of light and dark that he was born to play.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=74_PLrezifo

As i followed him to the strange black altar of onyx stone, i guess the imagery of the black satanic mass on some b movie shown in what is after all their true Christmas has stuck with me, i looked up to see him standing there on the ledges of this almost pop art instillation of a mid century statuary that showed anyone without a modicum of talent as Morley would ask, could indeed do art, and in fact it was encouraged.

The Capote-an imagery turned to me as the straight smooth slate rose into a similarly colored sky of late October, which i guess is mid fall but who can know now that the merchants of venom have taken hold of the kalends of Ovid. he smiled his dastardly wannabe patricians smile at me, as his wide brimmed hat of black covered half of his face, and the other half has a corpse like demonic pallor.

In a local Allentown apparent in somehow comedy show acceptable cameo, speaking of which, Sweet old Bill came grinning forth to explain to the sparse crowd, as no one stays when you sloe the stage at la scalla, that he was the pacemaker once, and then he was assuredly pelted with boos and orange drink by the radicals chic or no, who saw the vetsinginal man before me. now later than it's ever been for a war that went on, like a comedy too very long, the very mention of his and that daughter of his name, and nothing says election integrity like anyone named Cheney do…?, and another chicken hawk, that time with Roman delusions, and hours after he had done a worse cut than merely that, he has alas diarrhea mouth and will when dead still be emitting gaseous fumes from his yap for three straight days, all with a malevolent, smiling and the razor edged infernal aspect of the tiled in corner of the school of Athens in which he lives out his meager life. He will live out his ulterior motives to the very end, I thought. I said, Chaney said with a strange deliciousness to his sawdust dry shit sandwich, he and peppermint Patty his awful daughter, had made sure that they poisoned this latest well against that her, that she, that the veep is, and who alas has too many attributes that Hillary has told her covens to hate on cue. Did you learn Latin when the priests asked you to get into Georgetown and make your father proud of you, he sneeringly asked me as another piece of Casey's plastered face came torn off the less than majestic sign and came crumpled to the cold ground.

No, i said imitating the Trojan soldier soon enough in way-back Virgil to become a later Roman to the distorted swamps of white trash in that cesspool called Europa. I knew that i would always make them all pay, have you, he asked me, Seen the ratings of these gong shows that dare call themselves the Evening news…from hunger they all are, so next time, to avoid the Halloween rush, the queer the skirt and the high yellow negro tap dancing fo dee pentagon, now they carry water and have to deal with me as the Antony who dares offers that hag the crown, grass or not, so...? they must chew that shit tragedy i have eked out, they must kiss my papal ring, newspapers who took my word one as gospel and then made me the butt of laughter on television Jews now scratched all year for daring to take the side of the booing maddening crowds, now, ludite ladies who lunch and dinner and sleep kin cub by hotels at Chappiqiua, now eat the onions as you father said of the masters dogs, –you know he said, I did meet your pop, Jimmy when we were scouting locations for President Ford in 1976…i looked up at him as he glowered from the query set. Yes, I said, I had heard something like that as a kid, or something…He smirked. And now, I am Antony more than anyone but that pale Nixon laughing with that bus boy can take, and that guy she picked instead of a goddamned astronaut. He chuckled his sincere but double chinned and sacrilegious laugh. Dot you see, my boy, –why he kept calling me, barreling towards 60, a boy i was not sure, as have seen the before–Now despite hating Trump, he is not a war monger as they pretend they are not and she , every time she mention my name losses another 60,000 votes, as i regain my true rightful place from purgatory heart, as stab back at them all. He took the glittering knife and hurled it into the dilapidated signage of the war of other means politics, and it stuck with a don martin sound effect of Thoooiggggggg! Like in the stickers I had as a kid.

Wendy the Sybil lounged back on the billboard soon enough selling again tacos of breakfast at the local 7-11, and again I noticed her impervious seeming sculptured by Bernini legs, which may be , amazingly her best sexual feature. He had taken the knife and at a pad of cheap paper he had made it seemed a whittling of sorts, and now, in a perfect exemplar of what he is still so hated as a Caesar goon, es-so est pats, as ma said, he, with his smile, took the pad and revealed a long line of paper dolls i think they care called, human beings reduced to their most inhumane Bauhaus , unromantic, unartful, saneness, a round head and legs and arms entwined to allow them so all be pulled apart like so many mere statistics that even an inhumane Stalin knew was beyond the scope of merest tragedy. All the dead men in a row from here to Bactria, he said, as he slammed the sort of man , like Clinton in fact, who was better as a punchline than an epigram. And hearing the paper snap as he had cut like a surgeon at it, more careful than his ilk, like john bolt-in ever is with your sins to march or die, i heard the paper actually snap and creak like the bones of men at the Tigris, for which no level of hobbits ever there mean it shall ever not be bombed incessantly by chicken hatred creation whose daddy’s sent them to the national guard and which a good foot soldier Dan Rather would eventually acquiesce, never going muddy allegedly wouldn't ever be so giving up of the Cronkite’s desk, although i just saw a praetor told in no uncertain terms he had to go, and unlike Marius in his own Allentown weeds amid the cold smoke stacks, gave up and now bubbles around and gives away the punchline,w hen like all fools, he thinks he is lying the most. I always knew he couldn't play even a byzantine game. Will we ever be free of you, I blurted out, And that bloat daughter of yours, i don't care if trump wins or not, tell that shit to midnight clowns who laugh at everything and nothing at the same time, i shouted Will we ever be free of you, doctor Faustus, will we ever be free of you you faking vampire, you iron john wannabe shall we ever be free of this, i sacked, direful drowning in blood Capote who eats breakfast at bomb incorporated and things every lesbian who speaks his name has become a disciple of his war love…? Will we, I shouted, ever be free of this eater of moon rocks and human carrion!? If that hag is allowed to delta this election after days and days without even so mush as a thought , un--outline, and anything i sued as a kid to make a Jesuitical argument but the smiling of Cyclops clowns and cvnts and queens like that smirking king Artie on midnight will we ever be free of your chicken levered, lily liver-ed human sacrifice! And with that, i realized i wasn’t funning no more, i was indeed truer to Virgil and his depression as dreary Greek queen, Macrobius dared call it , fags love tragedy, than i was to Plautus and his banana peels.

Cheney took the paper men, made out of a white Chevrolet 92 perfect white paper, and i wondered as have posted elsewhere why are men in jail for not wanting to vote for a segregationist in 2020, and yet, they were white for whom the woke assured us there was some sort of privilege, and they, three years later, when Jewish money men and clowns decide to ex out the results of that election and say, on second thoughts,we rescind this equation, ma again right, as she was about the dreaded pope who was found to be a satanist, to quote again the unwatched hammer time movie, for which no producer must ever apologize, bidness is bidness, at nits, meaning perhaps like her beloved Paselli, JPI, wished to open the books as a last roman on a roman throne, bot they hate those, don't they, or for that matter Joe Califano at the lunch counter only ni88ers may sit at un accosted, or so decreed the hag and her coven who one voted for Goldwater which must have weaned JFK lover BIlly one, if he even cared. And with a smile worthy of a Halloween decoration, unlike CBS no mere smirk food our conjugation of Roman verbs, or is it Greek…?, and he threw them all into the essence of which was seen of a pyre that ratcheted up into the dark night here from whatever mantle of hel that he called a barbarian’s home. Toodeloo, he said with vengeance like bile dripping from his lips, but I had to speak before he turned.

Well, well, he said with a man who thought he should be now be a patrician but never shall be almost pitilessness, So, we finally do meet, the Jesuit boy and the Faustus of our time, of course he said, where i go make my dark lord Beelzebub gift to me the face that launched a thousand ships–see above–i would have so out of n necessity make her a rape victim or a wife, either, eh said, placing her where she would belong food her “indiscretions” Oh, i thought that guy is serious and is half way between a car salesman and a psycho killer. Now, who n gods name, i thought, would rewrite Doctor Faustus but with him as the American psycho in it, i know I’ve sued psycho an unfortunate word, though saw2 the tom Snyder show with its writer who ended up disposing of fatso Hitchcock to the end for not getting its pulpiness joke, and though eh was indeed very funny, still, i said as a cold chill came before me in-ways i had not conceived of in Calvino magical universe, which unlike never plaudit-ed enough dreaded Gigi, as again, who would think of wan ting to rape the then gorgeous Raquel as she was shown in an early Dudley Moore film…? He laughed, not shockingly, This is not shady groves, the Roman summer ends, he said, And has come its glorious fall in more ways than one, boy-chick. I resented this, as he gleaned at me with his undertakers charms. Welcome, he said almost like the master of ceremonies from Kantor and Ebb in a kit kat romp made of broken street, even worse than Pennsylvania already has which is saying something, and then, as the coup de gras, he took out a smilers knife, hitting all the Orson Newerker despised somehow age of gold , how did Nixon ever win when i don't know any local Jews who voted for him, age of those whose name was indeed Mudd. he then picked his gleaming teeth, already too much like razor blades to quote my mom about such men. Welcome to the ended of the republic, altar boy, Antineee, he said to me, rolling his tongue around my Roman anime as if he was not so scoreless as some have before shown what he thought of any wop who dared have an affectation not provided for them by Universal pictures, or Mount purgatory, of ford that matter, the BBC casting abut its then aging Anglicans to play Antony and Antonio’s , Rolando come and gone, and though now the consortium of late month X- er in the dying spears of Disney land, as i noticed and am not the only one, somehow the skirts of empire and tithe the PO rivered, over fed hags,m lecturing us through fatty deposits in their knives teeth, militantly feminine as Spartans can get, thought it was a good idea to make a suddenness night CBS at the movies about a Tulsa king, as one mustn’t ever call those trash in a latest land closed boat lift criminals, although to be far, one never knows when one off the allays at the planetarium will slip up and in the sandstone monstrosity where Tina fey lays her eggs, one might just call that now forgotten king a effing war monger and thus have to show up as against woke bitches, by depilatory the blond hair of the war bunkhouse.

Old man, I said as an insult still as cling to my childishness, I abhor you and all that you are. I said, War lover, blood sucker i said, I'm a non Jew on comedy television winking and gaping and mugging for some crowd of applause meter social stats…I was loved the society of Jesus i said angrily, as my voice raised. You are, i said,A vampire out of Pliny, as recalling him was why i kept my distance from his pyre and his alter of the hocus pocus Anglicization of Catholicism, although unlike dared and hated by mother Luther, the monk not lex, they had at least kept the sisterhood. I said, Sister Barbara Ann was right, and you and your minions and your nuts and Bolt-ins are not even check kiters or money lenders or shy-locks, but you are now as never before with abortion addendum-ed on by the unmarried hags, lovers of death and dying as i have never seen before and dear me, Roman Bill finds himself hardly as clean and decent as that negro is Roman drag in a movie that isn’t it at Christmas but at Halloween.

You hang with who you rode, old man, I said. The priests thought I was brilliant for that , but, I said, it wasn't from Justinian, dick, it was said by the great basso Bill Conrad in a Gun-smoke recording I had as a kid. With that , and with a gaggle of bats that he was really the father of, he went back into the fissure in the earth and I wanted no more to do with him. He blew a kiss before he submerged into the forest, a self sacrifice it seems at first, not a shock to me, and he said like a vicious parody of saint Nicholas, I'm off to find the holy grail, he said, and then make them drink blood from it, with malice towards all and charity towards none…ex uno plures, darrrrlinggggs!

Thinking i had been outside enough, i turned to go in, opening the door i saw a sister of mine with whom i watch Loony tunes and Oliver and Lisa each night, had had enough of this bloodletting of the autumn, and she was out of the room as the ubiquitous, slightly less than Vincent Price, an actual good actor but pigeonholed into all of this b y his stare and his visage, Christopher lee was some sort of Dracula, with white skin made more so to let the hemoglobin used in theses and Scorsese movies be allowed to pop. But before i went in, i was called out to by mid century real fur wearing Galatia, we cried for bombed to perdition gooks once, and not rodents as we bombs away. the immaculate, and lebaisn admiring my work have admired too my taste in a Beatrice, the Sybil who walked across the avenue as a long stemmed American lovely who had taken her share of abuse from those in closets not as firmly as they had hoped, who chase nothing but blond, and thus have to get out their hairdressers hatred of women a lyre somehow and since Kitty Genovese they have sued woman as is she. Anthony…! she called out, Here…she handed me a passel of what was then called yellow second sheet paper, a kind of maize colored newsprint, of sorts, and gave it to me. I looked at the old Selectric typewriter title on that first page. GERMANIC’S–A PLAY BY ANTHONY ACRI, it read to me. How did you…I asked my voice trailed off. Your mom hid it for you, she smilingly said. You know, she said, I have had my attempts at asking to be someone's use,..i get a shit load of drawing of me, and such from all sorts…but with you, she said, It is different, i must say. I must admit , she said, I have never been drawn so much like you have. I took the reeds of old papers, written by me as a boy as i still be, and i thought of how i had to not be like some drag queens and others, by the by saw that i had to again sue misspellings like much admired gals on you tube who sadly in freedom's land use a asterisk as if we are all Tom Brady, although come to think of it, his own numbers games, have never been so berserk-ed why is that Keith….?, and i had to sue a misspelling of drag as instragram in this land of the free wouldn’t let it thought, lest we recall those roman encampments where it was only the acerbically minded who hated faggots while they hid in fruit cellars her and there and everywhere. I mean, she said, This should be saved, if not rewrote by you sometimes, i mean, she said, look at that shit they keep shoveling out there, you think you’re the only once who noticed all of that crap on Halloween, doesn’t the war company cry for dumb wops whose lose their families all at once , and the black death in Italay gave us Dante, Boccaccio and the renaissance, whether these klansmen like it or not…so l think, she said still gleaming in the darkness, somebody has to remember all of this. As my perfected vision of boyhood dream walked slinky away, that Beatrice penthouse pet made true, i walked back into the small house, and the remote, the start of all this completed, got it off that chiller theater, and of course would java bad dreams all night and sleep until 10 the next day, though wasn't sure if it was proximity to Christopher Lee or Lord Chaney that upset me so.

Labels: #guesswhovotedagainsthillarycare, AMERICAN DECAMERON, THE UNMAKING OF THE PRESIDENT.

ACRI RADIO COMIX

06 November 2024

PUNCHLINES AT BRUNDISIUM.

01 November 2024

MARIUS IN THE WEEDS. 12 OCTOBER 24.

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