HAPPY NEW YEAR, GENERAL TRANQUILLIUS.

 

28 MARCH 2026

There is something Ironic about the man in the gray flannel suit being heralded out the building, like with Rachel, and shown the exists and replaced by a black man. The only thing that would male this funnier is if it was Larry Wilmore. Now you're peace nicks, … after all, the Jews once again get what they want as they do from television minstrelsy to genocide, both words abhorred by the rag that called the wops Mulattoes, do look that up. well, the business of America is war, and once bellicose hags of war pretending a defiance or even a empathy for their bribes givers that wasn't there for the Palestinians in Jedah. Watch the Abraham Shylock's demand their devotion, or what, cancel  the wedding...? I hope somewhere Adam Corrolla who at least was devoted to his piggishness all along, as I didn't have to pretend my friend waw the bloated Bluto who trashed Megan Fox, just to be on television. When fatso Bill is out there lauding basketball in mid war, too late for free bread, fats,  teams it means the chicken hawks are at last devoted. 

An essay concerning the mire and the cesspool which television has become. A boyhood recollection of a opportunity from another time, given far too early to and at me, and which now, as the praetorians smile and goofball their ways through a heinous curia, isn't much seen anymore. A penitent of Gore, Paddy and Reginald Rose looks back with ennui but with anger too at the circus that television has become, as the days were numbered even then for jury foremen, requeued heavyweights, and Jackie Gleason as a sad drunk whom drinks to not get jipped, as the days of Black rock have been forgotten and forborne at least by me long ago. It is a requiem  to Marshall Dillion himself as the fact we are too soon old and too late wise as i was told when showed my cartoons at the Pittsburgh press by a great newspaper name named Phil Musick in the olden days now irrecoverably gone amid the political carnivals. 

I DO NOW LIKE TO ACKNOLEDGE WHEN I AM ACCPTED ANYWHERE, AS ALL IS Roman triumph Intriguing to mention every acceptance I get now, all is a Roman triumph to me, to me, like when the early Romans wore leaves and grass crowns in their hair in a satire of Greek field largess and homoerotic power love, MORE THAN LATER SPECTECLES, ALL IS TRIUMPH. So this Mud Magazine bra ad was completed was accepted along with works I have avoid most of my life somehow, fantasy, as I don't have to pretend that Ariosto never wrote. 

Too, waited thirty days to rends in Lupercalia essays 26, but was openly told wass sad I put so much airs,  but Mis-Spelling the Roman God Backus. Agaian my fatehrw raned me when I played the fool for laughers that they’d laugh at me as an Italian enough. That in ways that Jimmy the Kimmels didn’t, do we have a democratic party without father hatred, as it wast hard to figure out why Rob Reiner ahd his throat cut in a jewish version of Greek tragedy. No royal curse if you ask Roman me. If I am the last person to recall Virgil and Thurston Howell  the third, god bless you and your late show con men hiding old trampolines and broken bras, from you know, Mother. I, in that, noted that trashing of Italians since I was a boy Robert Dinero is so devoted to baaing anti Trump he had to alas read his exclamations off a  paper as the ash hole once again phoned it in, the meddled being more about banking than art. And I thought, mired in disillusionment at myself, I never had to be a wop crying or shrugging or screening or worse through a cork clandestine face, and that to my pop wasnt nothing in my favor. I await the mausoleum of Peppers, the assembly of queens to dare take an anti Israel vote, I don't give a shit of stableman Medici are in power, it just don't add up, and the clowns must know that. I can sense Colbert's epitaph...R-O-L-A-I-D-S... 

So, I pass the time until dear, smirking, boys room haunting Northwestern Catholic monsignor Colbert has to deal with that tragic, to him, moment that he ahs been spiiting salt and making signs to ward away the weevil eye as all those who wore cum soaked robes of praetorian priests all along, I sit and count the moments with a Vengeful glee in which he has to be thrown out of the Sistines of television, not a first this year, but when he  is out on the street, as flabby, fatty, boomalatté, piggish Blotto XERO JUNIOR INM A WATERED DOWN Animal House found religion and devotion swine hunt Jimmy has the temerity to still be at his desk lector, having somehow stole the whole shtick from the simonies Daily Show dead-panner, who had thought of the scam and the bilko rites long before the fat little twerp. I await that moment that Machiavelli called the icy second of realization that in fact, you were a con artist , but a stupid one all along, and didn’t take the heed of those who said the road was one even jackasses don’t go down, having fallen there before,  as Ma told me. 

I cherish the dreariness of his to come when he , like say a Left Behind Jerry Langford watchers an appliance store window in amazement, as once again Robert Dinero showed us what he was all along, the Rupert Pupkin Travis taxi dancer he has always been, deep down, I never bought that he was great actor at all, no Roman tragedy nor greater nor English patients did he ever steal from the master piece theaters cast as Gene Siskle once admitted, as Danny Devito too was seen as too Italian or not Italian enough to play the role of a wop clownish but serious enough doge in some film of that ink. Meet me at Dante’s statures indeed, Helena, with a room with a view of the anointing guidos of police states long ago before this one. I hear that despite Lindsay Ellis as their strangely placed Macria Antony, Dinsy is about to lose 2000 workers this year, who needs painted drawings when you can make everything look like South Park without the charm, or at least the scissors, we miss you Gahan Wilson. AW Nuts. Will the great and gallant porcine beard needing host  care or cry on cue for them, or anyone but himself or feigned for Charlie Kirk when told an even already blown hole Q rating was taking on water, and guess who the SS Minnow as named for anyway…? Any care for the art of cartooning, as I have gotten myself into various art magazines with that as a to me unneeded and unnecessary disclaiming, as if a pretty Boccasale willing to tell what fascists all the italic have always been, I would be careful with the white boys singing any political arias sent out from South fork this soon after Nana was massacred, girls, as my father , an immigrant from then, and even Politianzo, the originator of a thousand years of if not solitude then exile, you didn’t know…?,its called the Cycula, cent’ ani, knew that and told me that eventually more Italian went to klinks after the chaining of Mussolini than there had been before. Now why the Christian democrats all with ten smarmy attitudes of the hallways bangers like Monsignor Colbert. One found despite the adorations of Carlo Levy now the Christer  democrats would enrapture Italy, it is after all like so much there’s that Scorsese has spent years forgoing, now when the church called one a radical, amazes to the women and the stupid, he warned me, now one was an insurgent against God, and thus no one was there to say anything much less sing an anthem to Bella Italia, especially if one got in the ways of the plants of Ferrari. Ah but like Biden, this tiger eats all up, that incoming commie pinko to take Italy found himself more than out of Vogue, but a mere copse in car wreck always variable in the curias of 1948. 

And a histories channel remnet of the sort most the channels out side of home shopping are, although the girls of Hot In Clavland have somehow taken over the less than priome time dials now, one can sit at night and watch the three graces of Shaker heights, savior of the Bushes, if not the res publicans,  in various misdirecting in the middle of our lives not to be Dante not that it would help, although it was those books, not quite Mad but unhinged enough that made me an nosiest penitent to know that indeed the filthy little man Biden and his gummada wife were indeed too vulgar for the crowd that like the Clintons think themselves Roman lives amid the hoi pilloi, some closer than others, some not, and while he was festooned with lackadaisical admiration, as long he doidnt ask the Pen grom HAL what indeed was being signed after all, it is his dotage and finally quenched evil little heart that has left in fact Duchess Macbeth to not let her feel ease at the night, and the morning lamp starts to never seemingly flicker, tahst for you Roman Bill!,  as she sundown’s worse and more mightily unequipped than that asshole she married to get ahead always never does, and she is left irradiating by  age and circumstance, irrevocable alone. I was indeed the only one who knew that falls that their dingy pretending it was the Ambra in Capri eyesight of Augustus was going down, if not the Styx itself. 

The show on now at ten, in midway run, see that in fact Wendie Mallick in the pieces isn’t the hated woman as I had gathered long ago she was, and again she had a palpable scenes of decency and despite her two coats of shellacked upon vanity, has a humanity inherent in her that befits her own Rio record album cover art beauty. And it isn’t just or only or even Beauty at all, but something else , as not to sound like a Kimmelllarian pig, but cie la vie, she is here younger and not as hair produced and darker therefore and not highlighted as older woman are way, and she is thin but as a given and not a fetishism as it is near the flaming river and Mrs Alan “the biggest square we can think of” Ludden, as Wendy was eather too young or too old to play her perfect doppelganger Lois Lane, alas like Nichelos Cage Valerie was too Ethnic for the role. 

Which brings me to what I have noticed most about this show, as the not ugly , yet not as exquisitely pretty as some on the show like upwardly Mobile almost painfully esoteric Rena as perhaps a later recasting for a more prefect show, but large breasted Italian earth Mother isn’t anything close to anyone who would be involved in the making of this ersatz Vogue, or be against it. The more I see her in profile the more her acting chops seem better than usual to me. I notice in this forest of concrete, this  The Devil wars Prada or at least Brooks brothers as wed come to know, too much, there is a cacophony of Brunettes, its seems each months wall decoration issue’s Alfred E Neumanded by a equally Nagel lass, Jews like Siegel, and mostly Italianates like the bald photographer and Laura San Giacomo, but I mist ask aloud how many of these sorts of people actually passed the portico of the infernal regatta and the signed pier telling all Abandon all brown eyes ye who enter here, which as the credo under which the now despiartely trying to return the earth to the wasp paper hive it all literally was udner Ana., Or as my mother no fan of the Wintour of their disconnect and the bathing suits seasons that came next, nor of Valentino or victim of fagot Sparta before all Versace, the dvil , she said with sneering queen of guilt nana perfection, wears Burlap, and nothing else. I wonder if the casting was done as a sort of backwards glancing, a kind of making it all more humane than it could have been, or should have been, as it could have been much more deliciously Funny, and only the one time hating Kimmel blond, prissy, gopher, bootlicking Spade seems to know the show he is in, if one man or with an ensemble who didn’t read the scriptm nor care to. I can just image how that Blushing blooming creation now would be, Siegel dead long after Edward Albee, speaking of knowing your source material, all older now, I wonder if it would or could ever explain what it possibly could be now that would be any funnier than seeing Daughter of Satan or her player explain who writes things were in Winter’s long gone. 

Bothersome to many, I recall sending a work in to a magazine you be all heard of, in fact, some office gal there impressed that we shared a hectored hate  for The Big Bang Theory and its prepaying mantis human Doogies, as called it The head of the Class with the redhead, the colored girls, the greaser, the fat kid,  and mostly Leslie Bega taken assuredly out first. But back in the prehistory of Hillary faunally knowing , as now the less than Coulomb like American President , a suicide note of meathead’s sent out Justice Brandise, tossing her into the oncoming traffic, I was told if I wanted a good three thousand words in the rag if I accepted a billing of two years of dwindling subscription, id get just that. I was called a liar for it, but it came to be true at the Times too, all forfeited and foretop to do Livia’s and Jebbys bidding against Trump. Ah, ut the old falconer is dead , his birds of prey pecking out his eyes, unnoted and unrewarded, and no one has a even rudimentary COD. Where have you gone Millburn Stone as Doc, or even Deforest Kelley. Ethcis are for sinkers and dead Romans hurled onto senatorial alters. I await the clowns of Mars and sashes gumba J3ws to take an anti Israel Vote, though loosened tongues we do find out that goddess AOC has a taste for Amphetamines. Not like many, I avoided Franzetta but as is obvious I was alas aping Serpieri all along. As the trash jesters of CBS get a Mad devoted to them, as a boy i recall Liberta crying over McGovern.