29
SEPTEMBER 2023.
During
the summer, I truly did get my vendetta over the last year and its
triumphal march of D student, duncest and shop class garbage, the
kinds the nuns called the sons of ditch diggers and plumbers, that
was facilitated by a crew of granger that had somehow made black face
work for them, and who thought Biden was a messiah that wouldn't
somehow end up at thirty percent and who's falling fast.
During
this summer, not only as usual did I get the commensurate amount of
pretty brunettes I drew published here and there, some with the
imprinters of colleges and Einsteins universities, if I am correct,
that the rabbi told my father he was sure kept the chosen out and to
get me enrolled over all else, to which my father already if not
disappointing in my shtick, saddened by my love of the clowns ethics,
said, HES RIGHT THERE, Monsignor, he said to always prick at the
Jewish man whose Italian gummadi wife, I take it made him a two
bagger, YOU, he added with gusto, YOU tell my boy to do something he
doesn't feel like, and see what he tells you back. But, despite it
all, I had a strenuous Italian familial devotion, no uncle Shylock
would ever dare point at me in his money chaining way and make me a
buffalo soldier, as I said I have heard the trumpets of war sadly
then perpetually sing and shine off the Plinian Tyber long ago.
So
if I , on purpose, would desperate him and even Ma as I often did to
my more Romantic brothers dismay, though I was never as bad as many,
if not ,most, a jeusitical out I always took like an accountant all
Jesuits are, I was devoted to old Vincent and his love of the Romans
that this goon, no Clinton he, who is loving out his Eco side of the
myth of book 3, would say or have said didn't exists as the foisted
upon them Negros had to get the that are patricians at the Ponderosa
and the good over fed whitey women had to find someone to be their
lower class citizens as Scorsese and Coppola had allied with Jews
and white in laws to make the Race of Beatrice, the Sicilian school,
and the Roman republic,and so said as much when I said every time the
Irish try to get this uppity, no dogs or them should have been a
medieval sign on the whitey house door. It usually does end up with
the trashy throwing punches at the drunkards, as everything you say
about the Sicilians is alas truer about those people , the Sardinia
of the north sea, where to be fair, there was was a famine added to
their over sung litanies, even though,much like Sicily, it is an
island and thus surrounded by fish, showing again, that even white
supremacy has its limits.
So,
during these too many or mot enough, smiles of a summer night,
saddened and tired of the propaganda machine they have been made to
be, even though their trickle down bribes are alas clotted at the top
and more in the hands of those at the armimentarium to wrethan those
pretending to be a the NEWARK-ER, AND BOY DID A CARTOON REJECTION
FROM SOME RAG HATE THAT, somehow as I have become used to getting
cartoons in of pretty Beatrice I have legend-ed from old sixties
playboys, the kind as I said that Jethro would fall head over heels
for tying that Lil Abner cartoon made real on CBS, what wasn't then,
only Roman senator for life caught in his face, Tacitus caught in the
minstrel show, well, not a minstrel show, but more of a, no wait
that's right, minstrel show, as Alvy Moore did shtick as it was meant
to be since Plautus laughed and not taking sides, Eddie Albert in
Green ACRES is the only one show from throe halcyon days, that
does-st make me as Dante did amazingly to William F Buckeyes, make
him sick. Poor heralds of the twentieth century he and his frenemy
Gore didn't live to see the chicken wire among the Roman ruins, moire
than they've ever seemed, and that old Nick segregationist leering
at the under-aged at the pick up joint he has often made out of the
local 31 flavors. Wow, he really is garbage, Hillary, and so, my mom
was right, as she warned me, before any old lady died of his
ambitions, if you let your husbands biggest enemy in power as a FF
you to the playboy after dark, aqua Velva reeking, human one man orgy
named Bill, you'd find out, as she warned with Italic brilliance, the
fake and the con and the arranged marriage of convene is the one
where all things can be adjudicated, and the romanticizes of mere
fights and strum and drang of married life become too easily a course
in contact law.
With
this background that I have espoused before, somehow these summer
days, I have gotten accepted and sent back to me Published cartoons I
have done, called eagerly and with admiration “Cartoon art” in
the tables of contents, cartoon has never been a put down to me I
assured one of my buddies in art school, as it has been to some, as
it only means in the original Italian, that a drawing has been done
in ink on a sheet of paper, rarer than than now, but still cheap
enough to be the fuel to a Renaissance, like the sad and buffoonery
of the Romans, fat over fed white chicks now hating Joe Campbell as
much as I did as a kid, --it was an anti Josephs Campbell screenshot
that made me actually watch in the myriad of swamp water that is sent
through the pipes of You Tube, the first of many Maggie May essays,
but all, as I could have told you, the latest round of Brunettes
aren't the cutie pie smart asses that they used to be, but then I
have felt that way since looked about and saw no Lynda Crater or even
as I said, Lisa Segrums or Jo Anne Phluge or any of the cute
brunettes that were sued on that truly toxic show about Hillbillies
at the mansions that plays now like the television poison that it
was. And with they saw that the Edy Williams I saw in an old Playboy
image on the internet as have used those pretty women here amid the
fat bloated bad skinned cows who alleys unlike raped Italian woman
left in freedom land darkness as victims before and then after, the
sixties girl with short black hair and Della Street skirt and white
blouse, impressing one of the editorship there to call her just that,
that girl in the white blouse and the long skirt, and thus more
sexual than anyone but Patty who was in that aging rag playboy after
1985, and it as accepted.
She
is the cover girl of a play I wrote, didn't I write one I think, ...i
don't know as a newer computer and vulnerable files from a schc card
can't be bolstered by anything I may have posted at Ello.com, as it
seems gone, and not juts to me, I paradoxically look up no less,
where a CBS executive in the mist of a writers room lock out,
hummmmmmn, has to put something on, and so instead of the dealings
shows and game shows that cyclops land Jewish doges and hostages
would eventually do, he sadly but with a Roman devotion unhallowed on
television probably since Vito Scotti, he puts on a performance of
The Rope by Titus Plautus, with her , his executive secretary ,
Polly, as the kind of dancing girls that see above Senator Cornelius
always adored enough to trudge to the unfashionable parts of Rome to
see. Like old Roman Bill, eventually the more Italianate among the
counter jumpers, as opposed to their wives, cant quite stand the
either the stink of toilet water, or the babbling effects of talking
women at the salons, and do have to go back to where the pretty
girls, as my brother said of Calabria to which he wished to return
haunt and are. So, I got that one ion the resume, despite thinking
like much, it would never be accelerate to this cesspool that
somehow the Clinton's more than not, have wrought.
But
with that drawing, too, the same place did accept a rarely written
fiction piece of mine, that I was sure like Tony-land, a collection
of drawings to gives the lie to the leftists and the radicals who
have somehow newfangled to keep a stolen superman out of the public
domain where he deserves to fly, would never be in a file cabinet I
called "Published". Somehow, as the charms of Biden fall
into a disrepute and the entire country turns green not from a
Ansonia like garden, or Volcanic rick being the reason Italy is so
Fertile, but from the fake gold pyrite Jersey that Biden has been
selling out of the trunk of hos bloated vainglorious Crown Vic all
his misremember, bag man for the DuPont family life. Even the clowns
are quiet, a sad ending for the baby boomers no...? And along with
other pieces this year, they have alas for a thousandth time in
his-tray the water carrying praetorian have had enough of this old
coot and his spreading of spittle, phloem and dried dandruff at the C
students that Sweet ole Bill never much liked, knowing this was the
lowermost level of rats who ever shuck their way into a Preatorium in
a long, long time. With her came the story that was far too pulp,
thus far too real, for the sanctimonious secretariats of empire, as I
was on a Petronius kick then, and I was sure and certain to make a
Satyricon of my own. And this tale was the story of an aging
Italianate ex school teacher, a germ of a story Id Robert Mc Guinness
up with ruination and recollections of the jet age my own self, who
had decided into being the kind of man that Hillary and her coven
mates hate when not is use by them, a gigolo. The chapter about the
bought and paid for escorted with some beehives matronly old bag, the
kind played by Eleanor Audly, no thinking back, Kitty Carlyle as seen
on a free station nightly re showing of To Tell the Truth when i was
a kid, was as Orson said, far too dignified and far too lady like to
be the Patricia Neal in my if not Breakfast, at least Brunch at
Woolworth, and the male Go-lightly I had crafted more out of recalled
notes kept my mind mind instituted at 1980 as much as Cato's
theoretical war chariot of Caesar's struck in the ruts and the juts
of 1981 and my own sixteenth birthday, as say the whole of the lagged
economy seems now, a Worst housing market in 43 year is another
bulletin that make the silence of the anchormen almost deafening as
Biden's own lackluster attempt at spreading commercial over the
hinterlands done back in 1995, mostly due to the fact that so in
pocket of Merck as this old man, he couldn't in good couscous vote
for any legislation being supporter and crafted by an old first lade,
as opposed to segregationist, he could support. The fact that this of
all things was accepted, along with bits and pieces in which
television is like Mad did when i was a boy, I really must get away
from thinking of myself as a boy, and not in some perverted away of
those at Disney at those magical Costello did hide a myriad of abuses
but cant be called Groomers as say Jesuit were, ;lambasted with the
line of a smirking queer on CBS saying My name is Steven Colbert...
I
was shocked to see that this of all pieces was accepted, it goes to
show I guess, and that my adherence and my love of thesis giants of
mid-century literature , Tuuuuuman Gore, Norman even, the age of Dick
Cavett to sue a line from that radio windbag Rush Limbaugh who scared
senators a might too much along the ways if you asked me, and now are
awash with Negroes wielders and drag queens, over a man who again,
whose name will languish on crime bills vetoed by Richard Nixon,
sorry Rachel , take your Pepto, and the linen scrolls of the Hyde
Amendment , as when again I was a boy in that age of Janet Cooke,
which my father had to ask, probably a Roman fascist bigot, Why was
this even looked into so much, why weren't her sources sacred, he
asked as if answering a question to me about who and what was what in
a land that would decked into making a Queen out of Anita hills
inquisitor and had worse to say about her than he did Oliver North,
but then I stopped watching even reruns of DESIGNING'S WOMEN ONCE THE
BEGUILING AND PLAYBOY QUALITY DELTA IS FIRED FOR BEING FLESHIER THAN
JEWS EVER LIKED WOMAN NOT BLOND. And, when did that rag of the
Washington Pest ever vigilante things whispered about presidents as
much as some junkie, they care so much, said of Presidents as much as
this, but then he was still an old man smarting over Nixon, too smart
a man for this cesspool as he early on thought Carter was a decent
man just complainant, but was glad to see him cut the line over
Teddy, who sturdily and drunkenness as topping the polls had Nixon
just been aloud to finish his term, but then a myriad of a sea of
trouble follows whatever goon that CBS and the other archetypes and
wool-gatherers decided to steal an election, yet again. See cause if
you HEARD defund the Popo...
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Well,
a few nights of wild-ING under a segregationist, you sleep with
Mother when your wife throws you out as ma said , but half of her
sonnets never made much sense to me , but I would repeat them often
to nuns administration and the brethren ultimate dismay, and I guess
like much it makes sense of one don't get too close, a gist that the
Italians have used to save themselves from the penny dreadful
imperialism of Globe theaters ghosts and haunters , who have as I
have said, before been little more than Roman drag since and until
Orson put Brutus in a navy Pea-coat, a disquieting insult if ever
there was one. Th fact that my nameless, stole that from Manzoni,
gigolo is on Rome on the Independence day that have which correlates
with some ancient Roman day, 6 June, of all days, sees a pretty girl
in a trattorea and with the battleaxe he is using starts to become
intrigued by this girl was delightful to me, and it meant that maybe
I wasn't the only one who was repelled and put off by the snide
reaction to, of all people, Wendy Fore, My Sybil, the Galatia of pin
ups being so openly demeaned and disliked by those cretins I saw in
the scant few days I went to high school at all, again, all errands
lead back to those days, who made sure that pretty Italianate girls,
and even some tabloids Blonds, where always Murray Slaughtered and
made fun of , but sissy goons who we know now, and how are lately
told to my brother were fagg*ts all along...well, who couldn't have
figured that out...? Watch what I say... for segregationists who voted against AIDS Funding and people who threw out death threats and did black face,...and pretend the Sopranos meant nothing...?
The
fact that this tale was published despite the caterwauling of those
decent enough to have voted for a dyke wife of a committed rapist
bloat, who now, sadly, shows the Romans meant nothing to him ever ,
as he allowed a stranger enemy of his, and not even with the fig leaf
of being smarter but just more corrupt than he, and how, yowee!, to
be in a paramecium that no dead James bond lookalike anchorman Peter
Jennings said at George W's inauguration a going over by the
Praetorian sanitation was in order, was actually a gift of sorts to
me. I managed again the smart ass kid I always was, am, and my love
of pulp fictions, and turgid paperback covers by Robert Mcguinnis and
John Meese did have a moment in this piping time of Kleenex and old
man stink. Amid the Johnny Depps and the Cuomo boys and sanctimony
that has the smell of decay to it, I felt vindicated. It was sad too
that It would have taken me this long to get the scribbles of police
chiefs and gigolos and Newwarker talk of the town parodies like
National Lampoon, again, when I was glad, to get to see the laughter
of days. This means the only piece that I haven't gotten published
in a hell bent for leather, never called murder you see by the Jimmie
Choo loving shoe fanatic fatsos, is MY SUPER-GIRLS ALL LOOK LIKE GIRL
IN THE HAYSTACK, in which I am not ever sure if in still if its my
dismay at a house everything cooning it up as war criminal Caesar, as
I have packed a codicil to the piece, in which I have optioned that a
negro Caesar hoo ddde doing as a third word Vini Vidi Vici, has been
repealed by some screeching white bro man speaking of shillings and
pushing the various Italian Sola Brusca card games ten of cups black
jacks, and don't forget to play our eternal slots. Aren't we all.
Joko la carde, as ma said. End racism, the gladiatorial class
homilies us, but we've found a cog, mister irrelevant, who can take
dictation and you're off to Dallas. There is, alas, worse.
So,
I hold out hope for that, as I am never sure if the worst name
mentioned in it isn't Paolo Milano, or Joe Califano, but is indeed
the recollection that is alluded to of the great last Brunette of
Hollywood, gorgeous movie pin up doll, Wendi's are now unlike Sophia
relegated to Free Ones and porno sites where masterbators bitch about
she isn't demeaned enough, f off old man Scorsese, as I place this
all as post Delta post scripts we've all come to learn about as the
CIA Indeed just as Frank Church and his commission did warn when I
was a boy, see America as an corrupted land , but then hast what
Imperator literally means and I didn't sell my soul for a healthy
satchel of GE stocks. As Ukraine monies, for arms that send up and
always get into Isis hands, are they still a thing like the John
Birchers that Biden used to tap dance for...?, he said he will send
his minions into Europa land, as terrorists showing again , my
brother notices I was right all along, and this whole thing was
about a Chechnya WITH FAR TOO MANY blonds TO HAVE AN ARAFAT. I FELT
BADLY DESPITE MY TRIUMPH OF VIDALIAN PROSE, this t shirted clown
thinks the Romans of then or now, who there are laws against marrying
his precious Baltic Cyrillic hags to a catholic, that somehow in my
life as a boy till now we , or I , therefrom the noble virtues poems
of Beekeeping Virgil, the smarmy, snide satires of street-level
Juvenal, the sweet and delicate poetics of comeuppance of Ovid, Bills
favorite and who makes sure that the mention of Augustus and his
Jewish minion Marcus is never too far way from his receipting of
Jovian rapes, we have gone from that to this old coots old man stink,
and to the sad liens of Cassius Dio telling us all that all smells
like piss and rust all for a lamb of God that like Hercules but
worse, barbarians could extol and pray unto, as they keep making
Conan comic books.
Over
the summer I got my brunettes hither and yon, as all seemed to change
from last year and its truly diabolical sense of Trimalchio dinners
thrown through the strike breaking and the Delta dawns, as I asked
openly, some dimwit who thinks politics can make you Sanctified and
that eventually if you laughs and smirk hard enough and somehow
amazingly do the bidding of a segregationist, they wont recall when
you ere doing pigeon englesss as ma would say, and then hurling death
threats at any Asian coeds who dared ask where that sort of impunity
came from....didn't you see who they w re now lauding , dear...easy
Roman Bill, if that applies anymore,. My brother thought it never
did, take some strega, principally, a aperitif, witch this time at
least will ease you Tummy, or at least that's what ma said way back
when. She made me as a boy a drink of egg cream but with liqueur in
it for a bad stomach, or with coffee, depending on which as needed
by the Italians somehow l;left to their own devices thanks to the
barbarians who knew, were servants of a falser, or blonder, or
blinder God all along. The priests just loved my returning Roman law
to Plautus, or at least Gun-smoke, and looks the part of white trash
hooligan, that it was done with the transmutable sacristan of winter
woods in this Hillary Halloween, lesbian Saturnalia, that wont end.
Me,the Germans sung of Hercules once, tell that to the bloated fat
masturbatory suicide who created Conan and then found when you live
by a paper sword you die of a real one, any hated Italian could have
told you, Texas Burroughs. Not me, if I make a sacrifice to a Roman
God, it will be to one, rapist or not, like a democratic president,
it will be to one who can sere where he is going. As ,a boy, I cant
get away from it, I once bought a copy of the elder Edda, what passes
for Germanic literature that frankly wasn't written by a noble savage
needful senator who never came to the august hall in beach wear our
god knows dressed like a hoodlum. I took the book and burned it in a
tin my seamstress mother paled her confined of buttons in, just to
sow my heart was in the right place.
We
went to get my physical at a new doctor, as all my doctors as George
Burns once said, if not dead, they have retied from the COVID fruited
plane. I looked for a Jewish MD, even a Woman ,as long as Jewish
would be fine, Ill go to doctor Ciccerelli when I need a gunshot kept
off the books, as I am that willing to throw dice, but settled on a
subcontinental Indian, hail fellow well met who eventually warmed up
to me and I made laugh though my still again being sixteens and
fearful somehow that I have too much hair on my face, as I guess the
vestal mustache women in dropped commercials do have an effect that
cant quite seem to get a huge chunk of people to see Trump no less,
as a Pompeian victim of a family annihilator who got too big for his
baggy pantaloons as bumbles his way though I am the very model of a
modern Major General, as that name Heliogalablaus just has him,
always perpetually sixteen too, stumped.
I
decided for some unknown, internal, instinctual reason to forgo the
chammo I , like Bill Clinton, was hunting Bunnies, sorry rabbits, he
was quite the facilitator acne once he got the instrumentals of
whatever poll served as his soul. Sorry Bill, but alas, the lesbian
girls and family members were right all along, and thou hasn't
conquered Alba Longa, as I'm sure when wife's bloated obviating hags
and sluts and Bryn Marh alumna see Virgil as propaganda, despite
Turn-us and Camilla, speaking of noble savagery, it must be getting
him hot under his perpetual ring around the collar ,collar if were
are lucky. I decided for the first time since a sideways art school
trade school adventure that went nowhere in many ways, but would get
me some attaboys from various Disney cubical I'd have to resort to,
with Stone Soup, I would wore Italianate Jeans, stolen as much from
Italy as again glorious once vaunted senate now instigated and
invaded by a gross norther barbarian thug who thinks the hoodie
ameliorates his being a closeted Harvard grad who took his shot gun
and waved it around fearing that coon got too close to his not so
hidden escapade. My brother said we must stop for gas as Biden's gift
to the republic, high gas prices that comes like sun follows rain
when again the dogcarts Democrats destroy a president and afield of
the man of the people that that old cvnt hag is always somehow
against, voting for Goldwater no less than be caught with the
coloreds and the poor and the plebs that might have wanted a great
society when all she was looking for was a better caliber of gigolo
all along. We drove for the first time to a white station, we came up
to these highlands I never much liked or not, I didn't care, as a
part of me wishes much to return to Italay, and like Augustus in
Lonesome Dove, I seem to be turning my brother towards that outcome
all along. AS MAD SAID, WHEN I WAS A KID, THIS COUNTRY IS OUT OF
ORDER, although back then, it was apparent what anyone who was
against Busing was trying to say, all along. Sorry Norman, whose
golden doors are packed back on free television after the sanctimony
of wokedness, but Biden always was a bad third act, juts like Marcus
said, and now this far out, a man who might not even know who and
what and how many praetorian are planning his ends, less Livy or
Pharsalia's Lucian Julius, but more like Camus Caligula, I'm still
king, I can hear this old coot screech out as the dog shits all over
the place like Tennessee at the end, goes back to the perpetual
Campinas of 2020, and warns us all about the fact that Trump is a
warning and a danger to the vaunted republic. He did,w hen i was a
kid, did the same things as he waned us about the dangers of Busing
and Race mixing. Look that up Rachel, dear, maybe not the stragea,
maybe just some nice ginger ale...
After
filling a subscription we drove towards home, he thought my request
for eflornithine
was
a bit more vanity than medical, past the myriad of blue and white and
upside down American flags showing a distress out here that Colbert
will never feel unless say, like with Letterman, the gals of the
closet ala Plautus fall out onto the dining room floor, in his case
dead or alive, who knows, my brother was sure we had to do something
else. I hadn't eaten yet and it was two, and just had a bad feeling
as sometimes do, though I am more auger than weatherman, and have
never been a fit subject for gummit work. I have to, HE SAID, go to
the Sunoco and get some gas, before this as wipe has gas at five
dollars a gallon, which means nothing if one say has a Tesla, bought
, or stolen or bribed to drive, be the best sort of people that get
on TV now, as he is after all a Jethro, and not a Puch, and how has
to lay it on thick lest we recall his own death threats given out to
mere co eds who dared asked , when he was hurling red meat and
strange Lon Chaney faces at the CBS panaflex cameras, that told me,
pre- Trump, this goon was not ever to be trusted with the Roman art
of satire, despite once he hanging compared himself to Juvenal,
didn't they all, and now is in that long chorus line of CBS
malapropism dimwits with too much power, like Bishop Sheen, Tommy
Smothers, King Arthur, he is literally a face in the crowd, but is
more like lights and wires in a proverbial box. I too, he said,
spinning the car around with a friends with hoodlums esprit I always
missed from Dora's DNA, I Have to play Multitudes, [or whatever it is
called] he said, Cause its another Billion tonight. Why someone as
sharp as he still plays the numbers like a Roman dice player, I have
never understood.
We
drove up the straight unbroken flat road of the highlands to which we
have gone in our shining red car. I suggested a blue or navy car, and
not red , as red, I learned, is stopped by the popo, once beloved by
Biden when he want to all those funerals for cops, always tap dacning
on the skirts , and how, of the Democratic party he thought a
bleeding heart, like Cuomo was a detriment to that winning he had to
do at least once to make being a family annihilator be worth
something more than the bribes his son, targeted by Hillary long
before, already spent. We drove past the Sunoco station often used
when i was a lad and my mom drove me about until, and I ma still
unsure, something happened which made the old lady stay serenity in
the old brick yellow house winch is of a type ethically mentioned by
HL Mencken in his travels of the snide man in the hell with the lid
taken off Allegheny county. My brother tells me it was the death of
my grandmother that made her less willing and able to partake of the
golden door of the city on a hill, which Biden still will steal that
soon enough. As he is, after all, a xerox machine through and
through, which explains his ballots, but I am not so sure. It was
again full, as his secret internal instinct was right, and in fact,
every island and pump was full with the toy cars that shone like
plastic in the lasted summers light, about to , like the res public,
fail. We went to a station of a franchise never sued by us, ever I
don't think, called BP, where a white Stonehenge like pillar showed a
strange sunflower in a satire of Van Gogh, or some kind of starburst
of yellow and poison green, and I thought there would have been a
signage like in south park, reading We Care. It was pretty empty good
enough for a hit of lottery and filling up the tank before yet again,
as she said and his smiling papergirls that price would come down for
the fall, the exact opposite, showing the Gore Vidallian calculus is
always right, they boomeranged up. I sighed. As we came up the
asphalt incline to the irritating un fung shaq white on white pumps,
with the sprigs of green and the word British and petroleum hid in
man in the gray flannel suit know how, we came head to head with a
Grey , wifely car, a more minivan sort of car, but then to me , still
stuck in the age of the News-view writers beloved red Galaxy, these
utilitarian cages are all soulless and look alike. In the car as we
drove up, I saw a sissy of a man from central casting, half inside
half outside the rover, with coat of many colors hoodie, cartoon
sunglasses on a string around his neck, oh Jeeezzzuzzz, my brother
said, more beloved by the queer priests than even I was, What is
this, he said, the road company of Rent. I laughed, as its now, like
Hamilton a hated musicale that shows what happens again when the
trash think the mansion is now there's and I shot a Leopard in my
pajama last night...
Seeming
to beg or cajole the not unattractive rather pert and slightly chubby
blond woman in the car, draining this goon around, she said something
this cretin dint like, and then this doppelganger of Steven Colbert
halls off and clocks her in the face, amazingly. Wow, I said as my
brother said, Whoa, as usually before this age of dying Biden, the
abuser call's could at least be excepted to keep their mitts in
tjheir pockets when out with the others, if only to make it all the
more sweeter when they could go home and beat up their wives and
girlfriends in the closeted, AND I mean closeted dark. I was upset by
this, and then, why Prince Charming hit her again casing her again
pretty face, but round and the kind Jews often called fat once on the
prowl as they were, to hit the closed window. Lets get out of here,i
said, but my brother murmured something about 280 million or some
such plebeian enticing number, but I didnt want to be close here.
Than I noticed as my brother got out of the car, and he saunter to
the white door of the white palace, this goon at the other pump, this
Biden Voter, once again, the chipping ruin of a bumper sticker told
the tale, he was smoking , actually smoking at a gas pump, so now i
was really ver shvitzed, as he, lunatic absusing goon, flicked the
blunt and zig zag out towards the not that busy street, as this
Constantine Colbert found in the ash bin of his boyhood has brought a
gloom with him that no body in that party but sweet old Bill can
understand. I thought, I don't have a girlfriend even that cute, I'm
sure he like i've seen openly ogles woman with her, lest she or he
even sees whast right in front of their eyes. She was very well
presented, while he was a left over yippee from the Sandpiper, and I
felt inconsolably bad seated there,and not just because of the weed
cigarette that was this close to even the muddy watered down sludge
gas sold here, that my brother hates.
The
poor man's Ryan Reynolds, and they all look like him now, a star for
no describable reason, except that's the what the Jews and white
chicks who are our circus owners, who run a sweatshop lock outed
Hollywood think queers look, no Victor Matures, hell , no Night mare
alleys here, galumphed, I am still in the thrall of my own television
city Jabberwonkey,.. whose girl on the ABC bowling ball this summer
got accepted, to the gas station door with a pocket full of drams and
a clutching hand of boychcik money he managed to take from the
pretty, but chunky, girl. Unwilling to be a lion tamer as my father
warned me, I have no inkling to be one of the Palestinians dancing
with brunettes like Macy's parade ads about how decent you all are,
so I can only imagine who he uses a kind of black ops formula to have
sucked this girl in and now bet her for a ten spot to bundle to the
low rent gas station and get , which eh thought this morning was
discount gas. I watched the woman in the car, she was mortified, as
he strangely for his ilk, strode his way to the doors, under a sign
that said as much that you are under surveillance in this Goober's
station such as it is,as I can recall my mother getting green stamps
and plates and such at the Esso stations when i was a kid. He swung
open the door, out of which, quickly my brother came out , barreling
ahead, and said, I could see a thank you principally to the openly
abusive cretin. Lets get out of here, h said, Fucking machine is
down, I'm not buying this JED Clampett crude, he said. Yes, lets, I
said, as saw something amazing to me, juts then. Looking up at us
from the clutched wheel was this abused woman, and then, my brother,
again not that most Victor Mature of Italians, but adored by the
local broads since i was a kid, he caught her eye, and and winked at
her. This caused her to actually smile, and I could see the rose red
mark of this cretins first against her paler than out certainly
cheek. I said I wanted to go and give her my phone number, who is
this guy, the question that such as he always hears in their cortex,
no matter how loud they yell, as I would not mind her as a
girlfriend, and would love to see this cretin lose her as drunkard's
due, as Biden must be beginning diatribes at the birdied wall and
screaming like a Apache, begging Puntura, not to be strewn by fate.
Don't, my Brother said, Put yourself into things like this, ...These
mutherfuckers are all murderers now, never play cards with a man
named doc…he said, as his voice tailed off, and I knew the
sharpy's, Palatine hillside, credo. I wish you would have said there
is a creep out here beating up on a woman, I said. I Did better than
that, Mother fucker didn't see the sign...I told the Indian in there,
Munchie, he said, I said, that asshole in flip flops is smoking by
the gas pumps. As we drove away, I could hear sirens, as has been a
backdrop now in the decline, and wondered again if he had a truer
knowledge of what matters especially now in this age of Pyrite. Alas
Cassius Dio is for us all now.
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