THE RITES OF BACKUS. 

3 APRIL 2026. 

I WOULD HAVE liked to have gone to a Maundy Thursday celebration that my brother was invited to by a more insisted than him as a mere pentene with her door knocking for de Lawd. But it as they were when I w as a kid and submerging the holiday foot washing of Hercules of Jew s Christ with a malicious mean little fat kid dislike of the ole Magilla brought to Rutillian shorelines, it as to be held a nearby synod but at night and could as those thrown at saint Pete’s last until twelve or wherever the celebrating of Christ’s trial and arrests. They were not that much different from what late barbarians would do to Sacco and Vanzetti was remarked. I denied though would be taken there by a brother hopeful of me getting at least out as I have since more élan sometimes before, but still didn’t want to go into the warmish goodnights of a sects communal Passover dinner anyway, though the girls at the door he assures me were quite lovely. 

Again, I found that while “July is the most imperial month” is non-publishable, but impressive, and comparing it to Calvino makes it worst, still, I have gotten the drawing of Wendy AS THE QUEEN OF ITALAY ROMA, THE DOE PRINCESS, TAKE THAT UNCLE WALT, ACCEPTED JUST TODAY. I know that every graffiti on every wall isn't just a vandalism, its a warning, and a prophesy. I recall when Hillary and Biden, when not Hecate's soldiers, at the others throats, said that people had to learn to code, lest they be cannon fodder at their perpetual wars. Well, all I know is that we went from Bill Clinton's life of Marius to Arthur C. Clark's sentient autopen, hey maybe that was what the code was for all along, open the pod by doors HAL, as I knew when heard that name that encapsulates both the most hated people in the res publica now, democrats and J3ws, who knew tariffs would have meant so much to Saint Mario...?, so knew when heard the name of Goldberg, that men with Ovid's desperateness at dawn, in places named for noble savages and not the Etruscan mere America, that chicken hawks would soon enough rail and wince at the priest who spoke of no laws of return, and who brought up WMD's a good Arab is a dead Arab, where's Judy Miller...?

A truly awful queen of the imperial wolves or at least over priced dogs of the empire is habituating by a tethered at his imperial post as actable swerve to the black woman running for office in Texas, specially hen internal polls proved she is unable to win even a fixed contest. Ah the fruits of the poisoned orchard that is GV’S Uniparty warned of on Carson eons ago, when I received as a 15 yr old’s birthday present, Creation, his brick sized masterwork. And the men in my family have never so much as said their gifts were presents at all, when they showed up at my birthdates in Leonid meteor skies or the fandangos of street wise saturnalia, My pop bought me things like how to draw the Marvel way and Tennessee’s Small craft winning, disposed then, but now seen as a masterpiece of poetics, as ole Merrily we roll along, hated so, for as he thought there were enough illiterate wops doing mafia bingo on the television that he had little use for. No one thought or spoke a second word when Jasmine was un-voted for as the grains of the democrats now, sadly and ironically, smiling monsignor Colbert spits back at and from hell’s heart at thee for having taken his Merverian CBS windows, at which to be seen preying to echh gods of compromise, if only on as Letterman assured them those office girls that like interns, agilely busty and brunette, why hardly woman at all to the Oleannnas of the woman studies hags, my mom warned me such, no one will ever believe in them unless of course, Pastrami’s Bill is unhinged and bitchy enough to show up with and in a yellow sash of a tie. Tourniquets abound. And the ex praetor hopes that first lady lies down, on Broadway. 

The senator in waiting, a queer as they made them now and not like those who adored me at the stolen from Italy catacombs of a rubble made Italy by the gross northern barbarians always invading somewhere, didn’t have the guts to merely say he is against God, but must replace him with a Salo, Sallow, Swallowing Godliness, and speaks with a exit stage left, don’t have the guts to be an antichrist like Gore, and whose cum soaked misbegotten run offended hands are haling the vicars aphasias in more ways than he and he speaks of Gods Junk. Ye empyrean balls, the penis covered in the images of that tortured God that the Roman had a zodiacal eloquence against of when started brining praetorian Jews at and towards himself on roads to cities already pagan, like Easter, its from Ishtar not Ester, or for that matter the table of the rites of Maundy Thursday as I could have said. But is a fennels gardens godly acceptance by the survivors of aids and doctor Fauci in previous dynode for death he has committed before that lovers of his on A BIGGER CHECK and Viacom- CBS and late nights unscathed don’t care to recall as they err doing spit takes, if not worse. back when. Ach, but this is the mark of a more robust God, a Roman God, as it were, the god of balls and the godhead of Penile, the Priapus of walls left in ashy protein ironically from the barbarian hands of Invaders who never having a gold age of their own always dragnet your own. Ah too close to Ovid, god is without sexuality, an anthemia to the sky god of Aryanism, and no one ever thought Jesus was that well hung anyway. A clown on a television station devoted to liberalism at least until it can as they are now quadruple booking to be the armamentarium of democracy, As they always are, says of both Trump and Christ, that both hung out with their share of malignancy, prostitutes. I could hear Tallahassee barely legal rep I wanna be a Chaney harrumph amid his polish princess proving once GE is involved there is no room for reparation that doesn’t come with a measure of blood with the pound of flesh, as the Abe Shylocks have learned their draft now well. And the queer thinks of the only reason to have a god, at last in hated by the Bushmen ways of Romanism, a god is only there to show what a slung he after all doth holds and his is packing well. And the lamb lies down at Avenue of the Americas. 

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

I have taken about a year to figure out that when I am asked to “resubmit” that it isn't the compliment that I might have thought, and the invite to resubmit in 30 days crap is ignored by me now as much as ever. But sending a piece called MY ITALIAN SUPERMAN WILL SHOW HIS ROMAN MIGHT was sent into some chill-subs outlet shown at the cascade of posts at one site, and it was quickly uptrend down, I am not shocked, but over length requirements. But, using word count again it was barely 2000 words as was this last piece done for #MARCH26, I went to their submit able post, always a dead giveaway, and the submission remonstrates actuated any work from 5000 to 10,000 WORDS. So, having seen likable and admired by me, vestal Lindsay Ellis triumphal return to You Tube, I saw that she seems like many to sound as though a true praetorian censor, nothing says decent like having voted for a married fish wife of a rapist, who voted on Goldwater, and yet, she wore the radical Keffeyah, until its wool in the desert devotion for the co ed, started to make the well fed, blue eyes, toy surrounded, Novice forever to shvitz. She bemoaned that the constant Good “I wont do” Housekeeping seal of approval on Disney plus sewage was gone, a warning that started for the Godfather on NBC, they hate that reminder, blaming a Trump, when in fact a lot of that work was fleetingly done when Mama LeFarge was throwing lamps at her praetor husbands head. Its a bad third act, Marcus, when your you are that willing to be seen hurling your Livia into oncoming traffic, Gus. And with that, and with a back up which the word pressers and low level Newerkers hate, I sent in the architecturally 10,000 worded ME AND THE RADICAL SHIEK, AS THE VERY WORD SHEIK SEMEMD TO BOTHER HER, SOMETIME ITS BEST TO PART THAN NOT, AS A CENSOR WHO CAN NOW think of waste management clown wop as a bigger sign of evil than she can now think of dropped long ago Big Pharma...

Of course I have my own Disney story mentioned before, what haven’t I…?, in which, having been told I had to at AIP by a pretty blond teacher to send out seven packets to the outlets then that actually cone did take uncloaked artwork from some, before this country ossified into its own Pompeii, in perpetual winter, which has to be the most lauded piece I ever written and never got published as I have a category of that all my onw, and in which I said to some fat girl dyspepsia that in fact knowing the gymnasiums of thought that Old Roman Bill had too prove himself in and at with the bretheren that Biden was indeed scared, even feeble,  and would be tossed in a burlap bag and packed in the river Tiber Just rages outside of Chappaqua, to be cared out to the Sholes of the wide middle sea. And spite some displeasure at this, in fact within a year and half he indeed was as I have forewarned, as people and women have told my sister I have those two pigs in a poke pegged all along. I did sensed to Disney the sketches that I had made for lesser known mute to them Basille fairy tales, as hipper than thou and still pretty despite her best efforts Lindsay speaks of a Grimm’s as the bible of such stories. Well not necessarily to me. And this year, with Robert Dinero as an ethincally correct Ghepetto who couldn’t, as Plautus said, play the part, as he was never called in for any Anglican gladiator between good wives either, has lost 1.7 billion in the last few years, showing literally the scnaimonius pay only lip service when the BO is unlocked on the bancune. You isn’t getting shit like this from don’t gives a shit Lindsay.  I nether sold stone soup, or and believe it or not a Italic-ied Hercules, and a ncie woman there nasically said though intriguing, as she admitted a ennui at the magic slave ship. neither would befit the ice palace where Nazi rocket men went to live out their lives. 

And the ending of holy week comes with the vile parties realigns without knowledge of Gore’s warning of long ago, and how even cnn and other private eyes of network Chayefsky thinking prove as much as the plebs again hate the idea of a kind as Augustus knew, of a king, as the rallies now a season in find their angels like onnnnn broooooaddddway, where the neon lights sign bright or until the bill is past due, when his own praetorians had to die over having rendered it as a title until him, as even uncle Julius knew a crown was the last thing the plebs, starched by Willie the shoemaker Shakespeare, what the name means in olden Sicilian, by the by, who were the first people to hold a general strike and thus demeaned forever by those Anglicans who are fascists by birthright. Charles prince of the Romans now, Where they asked?, when Arthur was at most a mere generalissimo of the swords of Tuscan prairie logic. And like previously mentions Ovid, trashed as Romans like Egyptians are at this time of year when the born again and the Jews they eventually mired are recalling God as intervening war god in the sky, child killer with Michelangelo physique. He, with crows of death more than the Woody woodpeckers of the Marshall landscapes of beaten down once and unmentioned by the Tolkien lovers Italy as we are all assured now that HBO wouldn’t be willing recover to buy up the collated histories of the little faes and such, if he was an out and out Germanic Raymond Massey more than a leprechaun like Sterling voiced Pooh. He may have hated the Romans, Italians Nicene 2 Catholics and Turks, but who doesn’t…? 

And as the vomitorium, as Rodger Ebert did call Hollywood towards his end, as he saw that that smirking reaper on CBS indeed was no Paladin he, like Ovid said, in an empire devoted to war, he said, In toto mundi, he didn’t ask for declaring Love sonnets amid the grimy sexualities of priests of war, that as he knew at first hand knowledge there of, there was no place to eventually turn. I do feel badly that Trump wanting to be a pace maker was hated enough by the war tower and relented to holiest war, the magpies screeching all along and a senate half there fears taking an auntie Israel vote in its mausoleum with Roman delusions. I recall saying to an early distress then, that to me Christerism was Virgil being read aloud by Mister Magoo. On Easter evening, instead of the sludge of Jesu made acceptable by the collected trash and drag queens of decline and fall, everyone is a prodigal son, especially democrats running for office, I forewent the usual blood myth of that crucifix for instead a better mythology, and we watched True Grit, which my sisters didn’t hate as much as a you’d think. As women have told her to me, the girlie armed fagots of decimation leave woman wanting, hopeful of a Marshall Dillon or even a smiling Maverick somewhere amid the Covens of war. 

I EAT HEAVY METAL.

 

12 FEBRUARY 2026.  

So, a FUNNY THING HAPPENED ON TO THE WAY TO THE REVOLUTION WHICH WAS SOMEHOW GOTTEN TO BY ONE ASSHOLE ON CBS WHO CALLED America evil one night, over the fact that his sister wasn't wed into the cloak room by the always disheartening wop Pelosi, and too Reahcel ass Sybil ine, did guide the bloated pig of A Bigger Check to the parades, as a way he thought wed all forget and forgivable his often flicking his needy tongue at woman's asses without even the slightest of their own knowledge which, yon Raquel didn't get a sense of the a fathom of the styigain waters that flow below his pissing too close to whatever praetorium that allows him in or near.

After they had done their yeoman's work as so we didn't recall Reich Marshall Walz, and his frankly we are not communists level of a love of graft, and when that Paul Sands of American politics Frey was suddenly taken down and out over use of the Scorsese edicts about how they are willing to imprison and not, the apples as my father said, and how the overfed White lesbians willing to overlook a derth of black boys at the riots this time, they said they wanted more federal monies and on act, those who skin color dooms them to not being elites anyways to clean up their lefts behind messes. But, in what the Freeman call irony, the mother ship of the peacock network, out of the blue, or maybe not, when one can guess what the Latino shrewish Sheriff deems to be doing to be a one man wrack an investigation, although, maybe the sons of conquistadors are never as smart or corrupt or tragic or funny as the Romans ever were, ask Bill. Well, this just in, Jenna or J Fred or captain video, wherever you are, the mother of a National Biscuit Company Snow White found the cactus flowers fairy tale go more Baile than Grimm's, but not by much.

And, even Curia television magpies had to wonder why it was that all seedless political sustaining stations, tape of ducks and spit and all twine as the dreadful Colbert said with Caitlin Collins once, --not for nothing but I heard that Cattily Cathy ocne had TWO ACTUAL EYEBROWS, but alas lazared the top one off,... ogh, sorry last Hanna Barbara cartoon Steven, but that's a joke your coma inducing eye, thank Mad for that, reveled in-for sicne the sixties back to the Paladin you never was, and why is sometime who made fun of a princess with cancer still on television doing bad Mort Saul...? Now, they went gavel to gavel, or is it Romans ball peen hammer, Judge..?, they had gone wall to wall with the story, which didn't shock me, as I was reading either Boccaccio or Paddy Chayefsky since I was ten. What do you wanna do, Marty....?

But I'm not the Jesuit student at dotage, a third act, whom, against my better judgment is toehold into the corner of a weedy barbarian school of Athens, with fingers going in all directions but up, as Hillary, the dame stragea Putana she is, is lardy with private polls as a Sibylline text. Knows, she do, its time ye true masters of America are tired of the con game as she and hubby are defeated to being stranded at the senate subcomitte on peta-philia, as so goes the Grotesque of barbaric filth and middlebrow shamelessness. Oh, its only Middle aged wastland.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IXWNSb4nUDY

Thinking that I had indeed done what their hearts desired at some chill subs outlet, one would think they wouldn't be that threadbare and sanctimonious, but,... and sent in the title of the issue and such, as was told I must, even placed it in the dread ed Times new Roman pica, I had decied after all recalling the age whne all of our submissions were indeed in typewrote courtier new anyways. I had thought against even asking what it was this time that they without the Etruscan warmth had wanted and quickly exerted the email out. My blither had bought me a, as an earlier than Marti Gras gift of sorts. It was a Mad compilation he had found at some store, where indeed the older woman and younger ones who had gravitated towards him as they thank fully do not to me, speak of tiredness about hearing about war with Persia when all the rabble wanted was for WALZ TO INDEED GO TO JAIL. HE BOUGHT ME A MAD ON SHINY PAPER, WHICH I NEVER QUITE GOT THE JOKE OF THAT, AS WAS A CHEAP CARTOONIST USING NEWSPRINT MYSELF, THAT CAME FFROM A UNION BROTHER OF MY POP , which is alas now that Jon Stewart and other Jewish columnists have indeed battering rammed the doors to Oz down and no longer find themselves as Paley had, restricted out of a more gentlemanly 21.s. The Mad was an old cover I recalled where a Alfred E was , like Lucy and Viv making a roadside sign, and indeed as I flipped through it saw old satirical articles usual idiots, that were in fact were older when I was a boy and saw this Primer on the black arts of advertising, all first.

I saw the later, less newsprint, less cheap revisions of the magazine here, as opposed to collected and reprinted cartoons as they had been geniuses at reselling the same Baggage twice as ma would say of some, as it was about advertising, whicah they had always put down until, alas and alack, they sold time. Much like Jon Stewart to the Koch brothers desalinizing and shewing why he was no union activist, knish eater, Ben Shaw, Shel drawing in a new Yorker anymore, and when did he ever take his life into his own hands by using the subway...?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KCSvLl9Z17M

The roads are full of rivulets of pre Ashes to sashes Wednesday. A sun of apostolic and even a straining Aplu warmth attempts to break the deep frieze of the last month or so, as no matter what considerations are cashed by New York Jews and their BLACK, SOMETIMES THERE SOMETIMES NOT, SOMETIMES FIRED FROM THE WAR TOWER, consortia and buttonhole men, that you find that they cant quite put the stops on an economy that once was all that George Will ever seemed to care about. So, the more glossy reciprocating of old articles was if anything here almost so reverent it could play a church. In the magazine were old collected cartoons which had a artistically satirical bent that I adored once, but alas we've all become , or at least they have, a troop of F'ers who its funny, seemed all too shapeless in recalling with their spit vitriol when in fact like the hosue wop Dinero was indeed being rakes over the coals over whatever he had said that so bothered the great Queen dido and its husbanding Michelle, as the cleverness of Sicilians and house wops was shown by a sneering priest Dante, who said of the bags of shit that all Sicilians are, they would openly help the gross magician barbarians, my father was not amused but not surprised, as Johnny Bull and American Shylock, Zio Sam, would indeed show them in that unhappy little island. That in fact, after baldie Mussolini showed that he had gambled wrong on leaving the Italic cocktails for Palmolive and Perelli, that cone fascism was vanquished by Walter Cronkite soon enough to buy aughts at Marther's vineyard with the proceeds, that in fact The Agnelli Family would be gifted with whole scads of Italian farm land in the land of the now winter Olympics, and indeed and in fact, three times as many people would end ip in the penitentiaries of the Christian democrats of the avaricious than had been there under a Facsia that still hangs over Bride of Cuckies assembly of queens head. In the magazine, I would see the later un Mort Drucker who is a kind of Virgil in pieces published by me, by others. Called the American Decameron, of Madmen. I saw the less than afoul dodging of whoever this was, in color something even dc has never seen fit to do to Morts brilliant pen and ink work, as opposed to colorized She wore a yellow ribbon, and My darling clementine by John Ford, who was allowed to be hated by lunkhead Tarentino since they are certain something went out to tell the marching dykes they are to haye him anyway. I skipped along in it, and thought not even reading it, the no longer twelve year old me was not amused by it, as I thought of my own version of it theta predated thet HBO monstrosity, and how in a piece called Pin Ups 1962, a sleaze bag of the Larry Tate variety, a Clinton type that i've always liked more than apple polishing prissy Obama, its amassing what has become tragedy porn lately, and how!, AND I thought of an earlier version of Wendy Fiore beguiling me than, still looked for in old Penthouses, the girls that I HAD INTO THE COMIC STRIP I OFTEN MADE of scripts, as opposed to some fatter busty monster with Titian hair, and how in my attempt at it, the brunettes and the Italians were indeed this time not mere victims, if seen at all, in the Comedia dell arte and the stables of Norman Lear. And despite the usual whining of good wholesome Comics of then and now, the larger ad man company it was based on was not a mere slight of hand macgians curiosity shoppe, at all, but was based on the house of Dellafemina, who like a viperous Machiavelli shadowed an artsy in all things Bugias. There is a craft to the art of the lie, that no on gets by them, us, we, italics, as is seen now as Dellafemina took the mere shysters gambits of George Norman Rockwell and the Excedrin head ache and turned it into frescoes worthy of the walls of youths and the too stories Chaucer so adored, and could only get to a 27 TH or so, as it was after all the house of Della Famina that offered my sister a job right out of art school, which she declined, as back when she was certain sich things were beneath a woman who didn't want to sell out. Of course now selling out is the only politics that exist anymore.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jerry_Della_Femina

When some two bit unheard of comic book outlet dint understand the “story” behind a Roman Superman, I said I was just ho Thinking that I had indeed ping to do something, like my earlier version of Madmen where the brunettes and the Italians weren't just the allowed stereotypes and victims of the Jewish Wet-dreams that television was, as my pop warned me. When we came back home after a long cold spell I took a first opportunity to go to a dollar store and buy, what else...? , newsprint, to supplicate the thick 24X36” pages from occasional Strathmore pads of thirty pages that I cut into halves. It was hard walking out in these mounds of dirty snow, that were quickly dripping into puddles, and where I believe I heard Mamdami's career is headed as he somehow got more people dead over a snow fall than usually die in Carribidis islands allowing the always fronting Clinton's to come on down and play Lets make a deal with the survivors.

But. as I shuffled along like a Tim Conway sketch, with a bag like a pendulum in my hands, past me walked a tall pretty woman, a Jack Rickard cartoon come to fie, and not wearing a coat, even though it was not that warmed yet, though the lunar new year accelerate when Chinese and a insult when Roman is at hand. As she she hurried on the pillared porch, as one would see often in John Ford and again in whatever miasma of television that Tarantino makes. Tall, slender, but robust as ma would say, circles of brown reddish chestnut is the word I think, hair flouncing in the weak winter sunshine, sunlight. A curvy ass in jeans and a white lacy top, she barrels past, and I may have said something, acknowledging her march. She came into a past door, as I stopped on the already cracked pavements. She said a healthier Laurel and Hearty hellow to my this day slower then I brother. Did you say hello to the girl, …?, he asked me. I may have, I said, She sort of barreled past me. I didn't, he said, Hear your usual Grunt. Oh, I said, Why dont you dig yourself, pops, I said to get his goat. Oh, he said, Don't tell me you're watching that Modern Amos and Andy shit again, he said. Its just...I started, Its juts that two channels have been doing marathons at night about Lamont, I said, recalling before all become folded in on itself, no Mad incursions here, which I thought would nad must happen when garbage like Jon Stewart was out there making fat jokes over a fellow Chosen girl, as I , I said, Never took the sdi eof anymore over any one of the sisters of Venis, Verna Lisi. Here, kiddo, he said, and handed me the Mad he had bought and had in the car, I saw it and bought it for you, thinks are fickcing hard enough with these scumbags. It was he, I say here, who first calld Bloated Walz Reich chancellor Gobbles. After we walked in and I got back in he noticed and told me that the children's hour, the peanut gallery, the Captain Tvideo video rangers all want now more money to clean up Minneapolis. I'm sure, he said with a keen dislike of all those sorts, They wont release any transcripts or crime reprts,pr yellow sheets on their latest house wop who gave up his life for the Koch brothers not to have to pay that living wage that has gone away. Remember Big Phrama kid...? , he said, and shook his head, as a wop agitator who went got hislef Killed for slave labor as they sometimes do, the overfed white sisterhood and the sysops will think that some suckers with too much Melinian in their skin will have to clean up after the riots on parades of the American pee wees. He is a good Jesuit student, netter than I was as I am a pussy at heart, and he dispsies Obama and Colbert with Magndraola like smarts, where as deep down I couldn't care less, but understand his salty invective, as did the monsignor. Finally he thinks Clinton is getting what he always devised.

Who was that girl...? , I asked him as put on my house clothing. He looked out the black out shade we've placed up on the door and its my favorite Martian style of door windows. That is the girl from the parking lot, he said, Back when the completer fell apart. She appeared larger, bigger, I said, in the swaddling covers of her winged victory of tweed and widener coat. He had told me not to wave back to her, but he' s spoken to her on and off a few times, lately in the snows where again Madman Mamdami has been found by the saint Bernard's of a dingily open shiva media., Perhaps, I thought, ha[[ens that she wasn't waving at me, which had never bothered me much at alas I don't fall in love, or perturbed to, as well as my brother might. He did hear her crying the other day in the snows and the cold, and barked past the paper shades, What the fuck is going on out there..., he shouted in the gray dawning, as she was again openly crying close to the door.

But then, I said, that this country when caught in the Watership down , but with arts and a senate on its keel. I said it would and some world pay for every fat joke they made, and that signora Fortuna would recall as I do , every wince that George Will made whim it seemed that his every moment spent with Bill Clinton as Praetor so awas a tryely felt insult to the brain, wheras with radio windbag Limbaugh it appeared so, at least to me to be a Chaplinesque pantomime. I await the Colbert's and the wop piggy Kimmel to have their brains bashed in against the local statues of Pompey, or whatever the American equivalent is, perjaps a sign with golden arches of an abounded K mart. So, now, Vinnie, we return you from the trial of a sissy boychick who bought a gun like somehow all the barge queens do now, Demons in America, welcome to the spartan hinterlands, we feed the dogs and the horses before the woman, Rome was alas a matriarchy, as a glove was found, organically enough F Lee, has been found on the eroded trails out of Tacoma Arizona. We don't need to fight , to probe were right, we dont need to be forgiven...

http://antoniusradiocomix.blogspot.com/2026/02/me-and-radical-sheikh.html

After he was quite impressed by me again as were the priest who told me to avoid Northwestern with all my heart, if not other parts. It was you, he said, Who told everyone that the wrong person would be killed , the wrong people would be targeted by the wolves in chepa clothing, and it is now day 12 or so of a Today show weather girl emeritus story that blew the Rachel Maddow naggers and genetic Klan meetings, off the imperial stage. If that Today show woman cant protect her own mother from the creeps of wetback resilience, after so many raped as young ladies Italian women were massacred by new York trash in purple sashes, well, that would explain why it is that the polls gave shifted wildly and Trump is triumphant in ways that again fat bloated Jimmy's never do see coming. And now the fails become for those who thought the Satyricon will have lasted forever. But Bill Clinton has found out that subpoena does come from the Latin, real Latin, for Hammer, so how about that. No matter HOW SANCTIMONIOUS U GET, I WAS FIRST TO CALL the Satyricon a MASTERPIECE OF WORLD LITERATURE, and as mother was sure, that brunette that needy grasping Hillary supplanted will get her due. But, we have found out as the misfitted Sherriff of Nottingham probes the Sicilians may have been right about the hooligans of Fascism back to Caesar, that our Basile hags at the Rat squad Disney awoke to find that they have s lost a whopping Cleopatra like 200 million all in all on Snow White. The one where they thought CGI was a perfect way to make the monsters inborn as midgets. Providing perhaps the kind and well wishing gal at the Rat kingdom who took time to say shed love to see a stone soup of mine made by , you know, some one else, still, Disney wasn't the magical place to bring up any Brunette princess.

I was warned against Northwestern in the cold cold winds of the DC implosion.

ME AND THE RADICAL SHEIKH.

Note; As we are all lectured to by actual American citizens racially appropriating rap, the detritus of an Amirian empire long in grasping, Porto Rico they kept, Sicily would be theirs soon enough for television work, this piece is uncensored for the delicate ear of those who voted for segregationists despite the rooms full of radials in Gold lame eating at scammonies troughs. I sent this out about the fifteenth, but asked to flesh out the middle part, Racialism is catching, i kept the parts about Rachel Maddow on with house wop company stooge dago as pop called his ilk, Jimminy Kimmel, as like Tacitus I am the king of Juxtaposition and thought it was  perfect deliration of the salons and the poor Roman suckers left in the alps without again, Socks. To show i am the auger, the scene depicted here was played out by too many or not enough ceremonial rioters  and Palestinians dragsters at Targets and Walmart's across the fruited plane, and so, as the Bush familia finds itself not even at the Bill's Satyricon anymore but worthy of EC comics, You'll get yours Chuckie!, within hours a democratic judge said Trumps crackdown was indeed constitutional, like that word ever meant anything. As my wittier than anyone on midnight brother said, Looks like the Dog made the call.

10 January 2026

It is always sad to me to have to as I have since pop was around, take down the various accouterments of Saturnalia, as the God of madness and his feast days is always a resplendent and lovely time to ward away the evilest eyes which seem to then take over once the twinkling lights have indeed stopped.

So leaving it up as long as I could have, I guess I discuss, to the cold winds and dark afternoons of the windswept Parirea, the Jesuitical term for the great white north of Indian graves and such, as we sat here and quietly took down the green plastic tree that our family has always had a type thereof. Carefully I placed the glass, always glass as plastic was anathema to my mother and her hatred of the plastic river of junk that American was devoted to as George Will and his band of merry plutocrats who live in abject fear of not doing the bidding of Chairman Pooh, as though they may not have had a tin in Italay, what they did have was meaningful and even expensive in its own way, collections of worthless hardened dinosaur goop was a crime to her. And we have accordingly taken up her beliefs as no mother hater am I, as I do feel badly for well wishers and lesbian girls who befriend me at radical sites, as they seem to disposed a Emily Gilmore like brooding pressure, but my family was classically made correct as it had to be in ancient Italia, with a given and loving Ma and a father who was as cold as ice who taught us , after all, this was a cesspool in which wed never catch a single break.

So I do feel badly for them, although my mother did warn me, as I don’t recall when she was tall gallant woman who wore Dior fashions that such as she did amazingly enough to the point that old women would be a first sweat shoppe for a wayward Valentino, who was true to nothing more than the shmatats of the imperail streets, as so she wnared me of the type of familes i'd be involved with if married or even fucked a white woman of the sort that Jimminy Kimmel thinks is just senselessness enough to be a voucher on any prairie stand, as they just loved all the Ray rays and dumb Gumba Jews that they could thus conquer.

As I got the last colored ball off the tree, my brother came in and saw I was indeed watching the new years schedule of a whole night if one wanted to to catch Valerie Bertinelli, as that prefect Italian girl that I am sure that Jimminy Locust buzzed angrily at, as he dreamed all in all of a Kafka Nightmare where he would indeed finally, despite the puppeteers of beer and half eaten calzones and burps and gas as a punch line, would finally be made into the WASP he draped of being all along. I would hater to tell him that in fact, I don’t think it was the Italian parts of his bloated cartage, the beard wail not help him in his search for Gormenghast, that kept him from being invited to Chappaqua perhaps even still again my brother told me , I who had just met Dick Thornbergh and Hodding Carter, and both were very nice to me as appeared to have been when on on Johnny once, there was a reason, despite taking blood monies for local elections, even the democrats wanted no part of being too close to family annihilating Manderino, or Butchie as Ma called him, before and despite that fat that evil little watch man Coppola tried to turn them into Aida, if not even Iago wasn't in play.

Is this on again...?, he asked, I, he said, take it that She, [Valerie] still has the same effect upon this idiot, [referring to me.] There are, he said, No Beatrice's, you have to learn that, kiddo, he said, as I'm shocked some broad hasn’t taken you to the cleaners by now. You can watch, I said, Valerie on two different channels for two hours, if you'd want. Way in earth , he said, Would you want. Old shit, at least the Hot oi Columbus-[his actual referring to the title, now there's a show, that's a show, that’s a show!] isn’t from the last century. I guess he said, You have read enough Ancient stuff like Ovid, he said, And at least you're not a complete pussy like that Pig Clinton. He's trying to squash subpoenas again, so I guess hell die a Juvenal delinquent anyway. Again with the Valerie Bertinelli... He said. He has said this before as it does appear in some plays I have written. But then, I am not the kind of wop who was told in his A BIGGER CHECK pay to the orders of cash memo to eat shit and trash the Italian comic that even Dave once called the funniest man in America, or to spit ahcita at Megan Fox, as he'd been doing that since middle school anyways, as he sniffed after the sort of blonds that soon enough he;d find out Mumsies wanted nothing top do with Zero’s kid over there. it seems ABC is stuck with another Delta house without the truly vulgar charms.

Italianate wonder woman.

It seems sad to me that as a literal swan song, and while Palestinians were being truly prevaricated, a favorite word of the bubbling up with violence grange that the Bushes still ,as the roman lives are mute to them, they never realize that eventfully the plebs will crush their very dreams and hopes of a utopia of the Have a Koch and a emails boys as they'd find out too late that there are never enough bribes to keep the lid on the steam engines of all empires. Yes the Romans had steam engines, so sorry about that, but I did see some thing about some man named Edward Hubble being the first man to know of a myriad of galaezies in the infinite universe, which might be true to those who do not ever seem to dragoon statures of Leif Erickson as the Bush family accolades never read that far into it, but such a idea was aquatically first , or at least after the dark currant of white supremacists actually went Rome down with a thud, said by a mad monk named Giodarno Bruno.

And for that the trash with mortarboards and who parrot garbage until as I said revisions are sent in to them by the general Prinicpate, he was cubistically demeaned and discharged by the dons of the cowpaters that Oxford should have stayed as and thus have less shit coming from it. And I would never go to a school where unlike Grimm German fairy tale writers made sure no one ever thought they either read Ariosto, nor was , you know, German. I made sure unlike discretion liberals who refuse still to take the name of Rhodes off any scholarships they tap danced for exquisitely, or even a lesser version of a Fulbright scholarship, as being a recast to begin with is what jot them tapped in the first place. I made sure since i was a kid, at any interviews even my father told me was a panacea to their vitriol and where they find house niggers, sorry I gave the prerequisite stiffener warning that neither the Sopranos, or Whippier ever bothered with, and hillbillies willing to say anything like Barry the fairy and sweet old Bill, I would bristle as this crew of barbarians trying alas to take over now as best as they can, but with a old corpse name Biden showing what a loser he was, that they'd dare call Virgil propagandist, as it deems for too sad and well made for that. 

Ah But the Pastoral poems were in the Bill Clinton list of favorite books and nothing writ by Maureen dowdy who called that list of books “reeking of Garlic” on Charley Rose to a stone frozen face, when such is allowed, always, lest Marius whole lufe be coral reefs made up by the jawbones of lesbianism smiling too hard and laughing at the recently dead, and too, realizing too late, the Jewish Omerta of gray un-spokenness came crashing down on the dormers acers. It was or should have been a much different Saturnalia month had a daughter of Marvel comics hatting Martin Scorsese had gotten his frayed end in a throat cut by a son who never got enough dinners as pop was tallying us all, like the One day at a time Jewish circus owner, who took a show about estimable three Italian woman and turned them all into spics as to his always bluest eye, or off a few shades of cobalt, in for a lira and in for a Libra, as ma would say. Even the farther in this was played by Joe Callifano, and the super, a part offered to Cotellano but was passed on as a mafia fracture fairy tale itw as not, was not, hummmn, was played by original tonight show, Make room for daddy wop Guido Panzini to which, like Clark Gable , he can effortlessly come in and out of.

I placed everything in old lid attached Nike Boxes, including much of what was left from all the moves and all the cages as I admit to not having kept these all, like my drawings or so long, as circumspect as I should have done. And now, I wish I had them all, every drawing, every paragraph I had written on WPS. As during the cold return to winder and the days of the god of Porticoes, and the coldest winds of the dark ages that this fruited plane has never much gotten out of, the Pittsburgh Post Gazette shuddered down s one would have exacted as being a liberal rag is a lot easier to do and a Trumpian Vendetta and a stage devotion to a rapist his bloated fish wife is better done when and without having to pay out the local union brotherhood of thugs, as it was from a buddy of my father who worked at the only paper left, the Valley News Dispatch -Tribune review is left. So the paper lives where the prince ling openly was disdainful of old Brother William and his proclivity to have troopers gatherer up his bosomy, always, Hillie, women for him, and if that doesn’t reek of a moral to the fable, I don’t know what does. My father had told me to take my Prince Valiant down to the Valley news dispatch, a similar job was done by Calvin and Hobbs creator to get his comics published, but alack, I was sure I was far too good sniffing at Stanford Professors Fleas then for any of that, though now, of course, I wish that I had.

The early part of the feast of the god of Porches was hard in that not only did the cold pariea winds come whipping in from the great white north of Canada, but the instruments went completely haywire. On a Wednesday of this week I tiered to merely get on the thing to send out more work, those magic words which ends the emails of the suspicious, but, alas after some days, not only was I stupid enough to get the thing in ruins by listening to the magic box of porno and of African grifters, I was told to take the system restore back in time, and found unable to even get a keyboard that could still work and reapplied everything from a a thumb drive which also, irreconcilably, no, maybe not, failed saucing me to use a SC CARDS with half as much, et cetera…

Since that this is some cyclopes in the vista, as it were,we went to a few stores to at least go by these directions and at elast get a new keyboard. It was too soon for my tastes after Saturnalia to deal with having to spend this much time and money to get this box mixed, but felt I had to . I don’t know why I bother with asked for works, it never works out, as realities this year had a email from of all places one of the toilets of barbarian collections, and who called it all that before the sudden reawakening of white girls with their box lunches, why me, of course, The Met, whichever one that was. A place that dares call it self a metropolitan museum of art betwixt and between the various subway murders and the Barbie Constituencies who never other the good Mandami white women voters as after all, whats does any white women who have to be prodded with a bribing out applause sign in Ted Mack politico shows, if not last Roundups like Bilko, think that that rioting is what Negros do anyways, though it seems as the riots are called for Lucius, lest the boss Hogg go to jail, the black skinned have avoided the frozen north, bribery is indeed a proscribed crime mister Not Bill Clinton ever. I for one will not forgo or forget Billow, again ;Lothario Don Giovanni and albatross the lesbians on the move, if you dig action, you'll love cocoa or maybe drone gasoline, everywhere, and how he prided over exicutions in Little Rock, without the grace or feeling of old Pontiffs or how he was raking against color television in penitentiaries, as dearest Rachel didn't care who and what families were torn apart by three strikes and you're out then, servings Brunette number Five, as the Mad Magazine cartoon said of him once. As my brother said, they are alas amateurs, and no one will ever listen to Jimmy fucking Kimmel if they didn’t have to.

https://youtu.be/Cu1bH-4bDLg

We went to the Mills, I think, a large parking lot in the icy widener wings, as he would go in and look for a new Hot[ spot, I guess, throughput I was flying blond as usual with such things. I sat in the cherry red car, as I would have liked a Cowboy blue navy, but it is after all his, but then he was a cowboy fan back to North Dallas Pete Gent days, and I only came on the only true Captain America qb what ever there was.

He walked into the massive supertanker sized groceria, as this was whatever Bozoz has dained to leave, I got a second copy of a Franzetta calendar I didn’t ask for, and when I went to the site to if not co,plain or at least to get a return sales slip, that was when all the trouble started, when I tried to print the return labile as didn’t much like the first one I bought and dint want or need another this late into the year. Hummmmmnnnnn. Whatever, I had made a mess of things, and so, I had to be bothersome as usual I am, and ask him to take me to the various office depots still alive and functioning, as am down to no thumb drives and one sans disk care to hold the collection of somewhat disliked and sneered at art, which would make my father proud to know I still do amid the fat bloated wops of TV land, of which the bountiful Valerie at night at different stages is the only one I can muster a like for. He walked in, the large glass doors as it was stuffed with patrons, a superstorm reported coming, so buy shit loads of milk ladies, , even for a Sunday I noticed, a last hitting from the hell's heart to the reign-forest of Amazon and its ups perpetual Montgomery wards , without the charm of distance.

Just then, two people , as my brother would say “walked up” on the car, as I say there rumpled and as clever as a Colombo the only ways we wops are allowed to be without having to cunnilingus Hillary's tired old dick. Not that the Rolodex helped Cuomo over a Indus river valley colored enough for a white chick, rapper who was stealing black music five years ago. A sissy was here, and a larger , but not quite fat, girl. They were it seemed alike many at Frostbite Falls, always go dinged, fore sign radicals, and against cartoons in a following radical primer satire in Mad as drawn by Davis and gray goashed George Woodbridge. I DIDN'T LIKE THE LOOK OF AT LEAST THE MAN, OR WHAT PASSES FOR SUCH IN THAT PARTY IF IT EVEN IS A PARTY ANYMORE, AND ITS A ROMAN ADORATION I SHARE WITH BILL CLINTON, WHO AFTER ALL WAS NO FAN OF ANY STRAGGLING NINNIES AND FAT GIRLS WHEN HE ISSUED YOU ALL INTO HIS DREAM OF BEING PRAETOR, AND IF THAT MENT BEING PRO FREE TRADE OR CALLING WOMEN WHO WERE STUPID ENOUGH TO SUCK HIS VARIOUS PARTS, WELL THEN SO BE IT. WE BOTH READ I would guess as Jesuit students The Decline and fall of the Roman empire, and I recall the sadness if not bittersweet march through Paris at the end. They are already calling it the Paris Syndrome as people go to the city of blights and come away , well, ver shmenckin, as it were.

The one was a usual iron poor bloodiness sort, who sharper their man for all seasons hanger oin shrapnel teeth as hyenas of power for those occasional in which whatever scare it was, and this time it is apparatus at it lowest post Dukakis EBB AND WHO CALLED THAT ONE WAY BACK, …?, so this cant be as Niccolo or Bilbo's woudl call the smart move. Lie Lucas, someone tell the assorted revelations of Tolkien to not bitch so much, as my brother said, after you canceled the check from the rat squads. The girl with him as a butt chunky, fine by me, as I still recall along with the fake blood of Scorsese and Sunday night at the mob movies the dredged blood squibs used by Jews who wanted it deems a real think less like a paint and mere coke, cheeseburger cheeseburger cheeseburger already kept from the poor stupid Palestinians as who you crying for now leaves me quest with you're almost Kimmel like love of cleverly appointed props. She was windswept by now, as he appeared to slways be sidestepping his skeletal huffiness and leanness, or perchance due to it, consonantly with a a fever and or a meter that was always running. The fake Radical, he wore the usual strangely war surplus of an anti war activist which I guess looking back a few days he was not , neitker are any of them all anymore, as the checks are still made out at the arimentarium even if they have banished from the battleaxes kingdom where the ninnies with Croesus ethics, made their sissy smiling their rape jokes with aplomb so soon ago.

The radicals that GE will allow to do their Michel Steele bidding within reason, I recall the night all the brunettes were alas forced lost this rotten fruit fall too far from its war blood dependence trees, They were bitching at each other, and loudly as I slunk into the seat of my brothers car. The nuns called me a heir to the new journalism of vogue then so I will attempt to do just that without the forgiveness to poeticus that appeared to bother someone who was an editor at some place , a word press of sorts, and will play it as straight as I might. The two revolutionary, wickets too close to hell you'd think, came to my brothers ruby colored car, and the ninny sissy prissy queer who uoi know like Hillary juts hated that MAN show shit when it was yet to be called a satire, the last refuge of a stupid con artist, placed a sign meaning Anarchy, a black. sterner stuffed Rodger where the skull was replaced and the letter coming from the Phoenician symbol for House was placed on our car. She continued barking at the sissy, and which the grand and glorious racial priss took a white skinned, aren't they always, fist and smacked her in her rather not unattractive face. I could hear Donn Knots ask, Knock knock, ...whose there...?, Ka Ka who, Kaboom. I was slunk down but thought it isn't a golden age when a bit of a sis like this could openly deck his woman, as he thinks sadly the foot-soldiers clothes are transferal, which is strange when that fat blanket emperor is indeed yapping dog the last and latest Walz.

My brother inserted himself up in this ice storminess, or at least gloom, now came to the car where we no all were, as I had been drug into a fight that as usual has little to do with the political, as the fakes like Kimmel should take as a given all along., The brother who reminded me of Lamont Sanford and Trapper John when I was a kid, let out Get that fucking pentagram off of my fucking car he said, as he recalls more than I when every third nigger, sorry, in Malcolm's bestiary was indeed an FBI operative much like the cosa nostra from which they learned it. Like me , he notified I hadn't seen such a symbol of their Bushian Resistance since indeed Bushie the manga marda, water coloring, Tyberius in the broken bathtub asshole had to slink out of town, and left the whole mess to a first house nigger that you could say nothing about as no one at Bagram air force base, can hear you scream in his torture Costello. I'm sorry, the girl said almost instinctively to him and my brother waved it off, as he hates twerps like this more than I do. He wanted me to get no part of it. Go home with your abusive Carrie nataion, lady, he said, but another pointing at the glasses wearing sissy meant the next one was a sick to the jaw. HE STARTED BRAKING BACK WHICH I SAW AS A BIG MISTAKE, AS HE ONCE TOLD MANDERINO AND HIS POCKET WATCH MONSIGNOR that he'd track them all down like Marshall Dillon and beat them all to death when he was 13, causing the fat cigar champers to back off, as they knew at leasyt one of Jimmy's malatesta kids was nuts as was the father, and unlike me, more like European Ma, he did look the part of the bantam weight rooster Turk that my Father was all along, I said, he said, with a scary calmness, Talk that fucking bandera off of my fucking car before I take her arm of this poor girl and beat you to death with it. I think you'd better do it, the bleeding girl said.

Yon rascal acquiesced, and sheepishly took down the black flag off the antenna or whatever he had affixed it to, and started to back track, thinking that we Italians believe the horse shit that they shovel at the house coons and the spics and the wops that the polls are showing once again CNN has alas gone kerplock, and again Trump is doing better than the Cow-turds of porticoes jad thought, as not the gods thereof, never know what a satirical slide into home means. Walz, I knew, never had IT. 

After the effeminate took off the ragged it seemed homemade flag, the bankers and the Medici of previous assaults on Trump now want AI signed , if by Satan or Bumblebees lord or Trump, so be it, as Clinton , or the other, wanted too much devotional as they should have known when they became this expensive a date. Then, he took the prop signifies did the sheikh next to me, Italians are a mongrel race as some English writer said, or was that elfish homer German whatever, I say that bit when has HBO ever been averse to the diminution of Beatrice's,..., and he grabbed him a very by his tattered wetware beaten Brutus at the Mercenary theater Pea coat, and threw him angrily into a ironically called Jersey Warrior into which had been packed a stop sign and of course we had never parked here before.

Let me tell you something asshole, he said almost spotting at the radical for hire, I take it all the troops are menaced to Frostbite falls Minn. To again lose as did Hannibal at Zama ,but classicism along lesbians inst an arrow in the qiver though a lebaian did tell me that I was unfair and that despite being useful and busing the Kimmels and the Colbert's of the world, that the overdrawn dykes indeed have a soft spot in their hearts for Ariosto , especially when Antonio or Metrioculio or Brntis is played by Robert Goulet. Hey, Idiot , he said, this time as possessed as an epethete for me, remaining the word in all its metamorphoses, See, punk, the democrats in that Mausoleum , a senate of yours, they voted yea on these ice Bills, way back when that fat bloated pig Clinton cunt and his wife that whore, were telling us all what toughj guys they all were, motherficker, ...Ah I thought, there's the word that means he is engaged, as with my mother when she called someone a Putana, well that always meant hide the china. Yeah, fuckhead, he said, They all voted for these ice raids back when that bloated pig was railing against color television in the 1992 camping and he was presiding over crucifixions like fucking Pontiffs. I didn't know that the attractive city, juts my type, girls aid as she had purse Kleenex on her swollen lip. I know who you are asshole, he said, Go beat your girl friend somewhere else, see, I saw the blood you left on the door, cunt. Touch my car again, he let loose, and I saw you with your little device out there stealing wifi...if I see it again, I'm calling the cops cause they still are out there doing the work of the lawd and arresting anyone who is stealing copper wire from Verizon, asshole.

At this, a pretty, but short, glasses wearing brunette came out in the store's cashiers costume, and raced to our car, with a large parcels in a plastic bag. I saw her as her short frame and massive tits blurred all the way to the midfield of the parking lot where we , sadly I , forced him to park to get on to get a completely different thing sent on the 25th as seen on some chills subs somewhere. I don't know why I both as never got a responses from that Met shit as sadly to them dared write about the blue armor of the Etruscan which now is just a place that black Irish asshole, ro coin my brother word, must see TV doctor decided ,like the Romans that Tuscany was a nice place to stomp about, but he wouldn't want to move there. Here, she said, as she knew my brother as they all do, and I stay of crocus aloof, Here's your router, Mister Acri, we saw you bolt out without it, you paid for it, and then, she said, You Bolted out, we didn't know what was going on, but we saw the goings on here, ... before the woman could get out her sentence the ninny got up and ran away to, what else, a sparkling silver Canyeranro van, again we have never passed Silveralliaia of the Nuns, and he took off in a sparkling van, I don't know its name but it had a 2600 attached to the door, meaning something. On the rag tag trash boy chick, was a threadbare example of a checked Keiffiyeh, now ironically wipped off and landing on the wet cement pavement, a Palestinian occupational flag, like to the Sicilians there is no crime ever against them, certainly never to be seen with as much horror as a feathered Indian in Bonanza repeats or mostly a Myron Cohen joke, a remnant that is sued by the over fed American ninnies and NBC ant port in a plebeian storm, hated ocne by trash like George Will, not my friend and this bothered , I could tell my brother, who had seen the equal Roman curtailments of cloths of Francis or Romans resided to the drag sadly worn as only fashion by hags and pigs and starlets on runways like a merest scarf, age worn by barbarian slime and now, their children who hadn't fallen far as pop said from the hanging vines.

My brother barked at hum who did this cretin think we was wearing such a thing as if a Transvestite, Yes having never flicked my tongue publicly at women's clits I don't have to take dictation, I will use the Roman words Bushies, Rue Paul like catwalk affectation, of not a red ribbon like Hollywood signal of the decency found at the craft services. How dare you wear such a thing, he shouted, but it wasn't in the way that Jews kept an eye out for such accommodation, but he had a radical Jesuits devotion to the poor and the weak that comes from Francis more than any Lither who found God and lard in the same bottles and the same butcher shoppes. City of God indeed. He kicked some sludge and parking lot cold rain at him, before they got up and he raced away as a usual liberal solider, and the John Brown stayed his body right there as I was afraid my brother indeed was a radical Sheikh, like Plautus said, he looked the part, as he had with pompous overeating Jesuits would have throw this phony progressive as opposed to Roman Liberal well ladeedah, him across the river Styx, like a confederate dollar, if he could.

The woman merely stood there a moment, and quietly walked away. As she did, and we were driving off, the issued, abused, girl who somehow let some queer get away with such, to a point, saw me slumped there, and waved her tweedy gloved hand fingers at me, which caused amused me almost intrinsically to wave back. My brother slapped my hand down,as it was one of those moments that I OR ONE CANT EVEN make up, as he said, still fuming, Dint wve back at her, what are you nuts...? I know tehse fuckheads are ingratiating people, like they always do, as I wouldn't stand on the same stage as that Bloated Walz even for his petty cash bribes which. He said, I am certain he doesnt, I'm sure give out. Not at these prices, I said, as we went back down the road cut out of the opening to a plastic hell of florescent fire, in within yards of a lifeless forests of the midwinter or some discontents. As we drove off, with a large box in the back seat, and cutting off the Silverado, my brother is a master of the power move, he told me, Nerve let some whitey cretin yell at you, like Callifano he said, Yell at your abused wives, he said to the Clinton out there he never bought into and knew was a fraud. I dint take that shit from dyke nuns who were literate...always be intrepid, he said. This made me laugh.

Within days of the news paper age of read ink triumph for the union thugs, the morning paper announced that it was undeed as belly up like a great fish in the rivers of the new Republic, and too bad, all the pipe fitters and letter clickers were told with even some Christmas trees still then up that Gutenberg's invention, though the Chinese and Romans had movable type as wood blocking, hey Augustus had to make sure when he said something was Censored it was you know, Censored asshole!. But, even still, the rag that was once a lighthouse and a McKlatchy rage has found it just too much money to keep going , as after all the night I saw the Koch brothers buy Jon Stewart Time and or Soul or both or in a package deal, I knew that the oligarchies has taken over, again it’s a Roman word alerted, ears, no matter what Rabbi Boiney tells you, as did you indeed cut the Golden hawk we are eating on these festive days…? Well, the less newspapers pout there, Lois, the less that Jews have to be ver shmencken over the using or not of the word Genocide as they place on airs or do the dance of the virgin vails, again , from memory. As the worst part of the fat little Sicilian crying gain fraud, and frauds alas they do always go overboard which is why Sir Niccolo did say there is a fatiguing laity to evil after all, he will go too far to perturbed he w ast what he was all along and god knows, like smarter Bill now stuck with him , god only knows how many women will fall out of that closet ala Plautus and how this bloat with a exchanged face will or could even deal with it. As I saw in that awful week of sanctimony amid the slush that snow flakes turn into when bribes are their oiliest goal, and they forget, as if Busiaies to try to preen that getting out of the veracious imperial barcaroles isn’t their oiliest need, as even did sweet old Bill repercussion that somehow free trade and girl demeaning was a kind of better living through chemistry, and who bright that up when I was called a paranoid for ever thinking that Biden was, if not behind, then in the wings of your death cult. So, dearies, as one has to wonder how many days one can laugh it up with a Bush Daughter Julia, or a house negro Michel Steele or a Mackane operative, before even the niggling and goading inner ear voices start to wonder if the exchange rate that the lord of the lies always grieves was indeed as ma said, selling one's soul for Tin, at today's close.

Who would know better than the Italians, as opposed to the Sicilian …?, And he goes about sure to go after Dean Wormer, as ABC again puts its eggs in a wrong basket as it tries to somehow be able to make a television show out of Animal house as somehow it was done to MASH, without the blood and guts and vulgar try at the front, but was only a lukewarm Delta house that never much clicked. I wonder if Rachel dear, a palomine from way back, but I always am loved by nuns as Jimminy's ilk never was with his weed laugh and walkway targeting the Lenos and the little Foxes as he thinks is what got him where he is today, I wonder if RACHEL DEAR DID SEE HIM AS HE DOES HIS LIFE LONG ACT, AND IT WILL COME CRASHING DOWN AS HAPPENS SOON ENOIGH, HOPE YOU HAVE WATCHES TO SELL, Jumbo, as the third act of having you on my side isn’t something I, a reader of Marcus have to deal with.

I wonder if she saw where the sow doing his act at lame covered, eye boggling vulgarity at some awards show here South Park and he were never much welcomed at, even if there they were told in no uncertain terms of the apartheid of the revenge of the high school cretins, when he blabbed away that the worse thing that he could think of Trump still, departed it all. He called her a woman's name, Jennifer, as the Moms maybes of the earth now dare think they can avoid their hated and destroyer slurs by using proper names, which like Guido and Stan and Karen and such always can get their meagerness point across anyway without the words I often use just to see if anyone out there is still awake at the activity of the Lethe. Did Rachel give out I saw by clicker accident her Good I wont do Housekeeping seal of approval;. Did she wince a bit when she saw this, I wondered, or did she even care...?, already havaing been banished from a tower kingdom of Tina Fey and Paul Winchell and Howie Morris and your show of shows, and rape jokes and from where the Wild things or at least watering holed Rhinos no longer inhabit. Well Jimmbo was smarter than Carlos Mencia ever was. Grappa For everyone, except the wife who just hates that shit.

We came home and after a week of stationary store hunting, the white box router he bought after some hit and misses by me having never seen such a thing, it now went through and we got on eventuality, he is sure that somewhere noisome leeched out at least three cards of TRAC PHONE and other servers, as thinks it not forgotten somewhere that in my THE UNMAKING OF THE PRAETOR that I in a piece called the Last Walz spoke of his semaphoring hiding a sepsis in his fat little cowardly lion father, as as Oz returns to the file cabin ate of pre bellium after the only blond in the Roman pantheon, at least before Uncle Walt showed up.

It took me a second, as they say to get this essay as sent it was a simple 2000 word piece and then I was asked to flesh it out as the middle part was they thought the center of the bit. Losing Word and Works in wiping out the magic box it was hard to sue again Apache to get this redone, but Roman charted me pushed through. After a winter storm there was realized a need to plow through the work and finish it, as the scene at the local , though farther away Staples was played out once too often that week for the collected doggies with collected Targets, and so the commies have to Go, as Omar fears more than anything as all radicals without any portfolio but the stopcocks they filched do, do who are fake, a audit of the trees. also too many Italianate Angela's shut the golden door of the music of the spheres to the corpse of a sleaze bag dress maker, as Ma would have been this pleased to know oif Signora Fortuna sent out the doves she sued as the birds of prey. look it up, as I mouthed to the girl about the democrats having voted for all this once, to tear someone apart, as I , just by touch emotions, felt a gladness that the Italy that had been reduced to dressmaking saitre was sent to hell. 

A name that meant enough with a silent movie star handsome leading man as no Italian would be again, Brando and Fonda make sure that they know that gram's linage died out long ago, but not me, not for pop. Valentino, the mane whose medieval papers sonnets and crude drawings predicted Picasso or at least Brecht, over a priest who brought the Ritalin lovers to better ends than Roman tribunes and Shakespeare and Coriolanus ever do was fine by me. My mother would have loved to know that the hags of empire are being destroyed by the image of the oversexed as the war lovers call it, the dumb Brunette, wanted eventually known of. Dirty pool, as those are battle axes at the end of that wedding aisle. As such happens when a plutocrat selling paperbacks then percolators, is betrothed to a stripper at the house of Borgia's, which isn’t fooling its;lf with just any radicals anymore, or anyone , after all.