24 July 2007

AT NOON, AT THE BOTTOM OF A WELL….

In 1985, when I was nineteen, I was offered a job at a comic book company , which was just at the dawn then of a Indy movement in comics which would give us , eventually, a nightmare which cc beck saw coming and warned against. True to his Mennonite like , frostbite falls, nature, which I admire as the wholly American sense of comics, which allows amazingly for talk of Greeks Romans and Egyptian arts, which wops and Jews do not, he saw exactly where comics were going back when he was the latest of dc’s legendary victims.

This was not a great thing for me, being offered a job out of caryola cartoons about space pirates and such drawn on manila second sheet paper, and I doubt I can get away with that sort of conceit now. It was bad in that, I didn’t take the job in New Jersey, as it fed into a laziness I have always had, and made me think, deep down, Hell, I could walk into marvel and get a job tomorrow, and so, I took the next fifteen years off. Only the rise of the sopranos as an egregious toxic spill could make me want to even bother getting anything in comics or anything else, done.

But, the comic world had changed since those more innocent days of 1985, and crises and houses fell and were reapplied by identity crises and kingdoms come and gone, thy and Jeanette’s will be done, and somehow, my favorite, SHAZAM, was actually the one, not Christ like Superman, who was doing all the resurrecting. It was an ugly, vapid, awful, horrid world, and it reached its nadir for me, this rather wet and listless summer, as lesbians screeched about cheesecake imagery with the ferocity of feminista charioteers one would have to go back to All In the Family halcyon days to recover. I often go to a website called comic conspiracy to help me gain some heft to a resume paltry for someone who was offered a job all that time ago, and saw that there was a site called Modern tales looking for comics. I don’t know why I submit…the comic geeks hate my classically middle ages Italic work, and even if they don’t, I never format it right anyway…But in that I am O for three this summer, I have more pages , again, I want placed and have hit something of a wall.

But today, I reached the city of dis, the lowest, hottest, ironically ice covered satanic point in this post industrial, image color separated, fantastic four as literature, hell, and I am looking for any consummate Virgil to lead me out. I read a blog called ‘Your web comics stinks…ect.’ I wont give the whole name. He hates being linked to…right. He seems to hate some Italian named cartoonist and goes off in Boy from oz caliber, show stopping, overdramatic, dreamgirls, Jennifer Hudson on crack, hyper queen, dialogs about comix I have never heard, and does so in a way which makes Tom Freidman sound like Chaucer in the calm and well reasoned department. Shit, dude, as a lesbian might say, they are just comics, and paperless ones at that. But, it was the Exxon Valdez of immaturity and smarminess which made me say, finally, Enough, no mas, I cant deal with you people anymore, ....no, see, I AM BETTER THAN YOU, THAT QUESTION THAT THE SEMI HUMAN WOPS AND THUGS HAVE HURLED AT ME SINCE GRADE SCHOOL, KNOWING, REALLY, THE ANSWER WHICH IS WHY IT IS ASKED AT ALL. I WAS TAUGHT BY JESUIT BROTHERS AND I WAS TAUGHT ART BY NUNS AND A GIANT NAMED ANGELO CIOTTI, WHO IS A GRAND EARTH MINDED ITALIAN ARTIST, WHO TOOK ME ASIDE AND TAUGHT ME TRICKS AND INCANTATIONS NOT TAUGHT TO FISCAL MINDED DORIAN CLEVENGER, …SEE, YES, I AM BETTER THAN YOU, AT ART, AND WORKS , AND DAYS, AT THOUGHTS, AT EVERYTHING…I am. Or at least, I aren’t this bad off.

This creep smarmily and vituperatively tore these people apart, so what, but kept wanting to hope he was eliciting tears from this wop named monstrosity he couldn’t abide. GEE, WARES YOUR BOURBON, POP. YEEEECCCCCH. Also, for someone who was really doing this for his little sewing circle, coffee klatch, he placed fifty labels for each post, hoping to snare internet surfers, like a pornographer of fat chicks would, not that I know about such devices, at all...He called this guy a Peta-phile, a word I wont even spell right lest I get on some watch list here in the bushy imperium. He hurled this queens’ invective at someone public ally and then called it a , “Metaphor’ …Gee, there is a shock, he isn’t as sharp as he pretends. A metaphor…? Oh, no Solly, its not a metaphor, or is that what you said at the police station…oh, no sir, your honor, I was just mixing metaphors.

Then, our Leonardo takes off on an artist named Iliad. He informs us idiots that the Iliad was, you idiots see, a great work of fiction. Oh, dank yew surrrr, dank you for being so kind as at tell us stupid niggers what de Illiad be, sur…A work of fiction, he calls it as smarmy and self assured as ever, …as opposed to a poem, I guess. Of course, Homer thought he was writing about gods of the time, no different than Jesus or Mohamed today, and historical attributes no less , uh, real, than the crucifixion or Pilate. But, this guy Is brilliant, why quibble, enough with reality, enjoy the degradation of the low rent by someone who has found a place in the gutter from which to spit down at folks. I felt awful reading this, and a few of the geekocrasy had in this scumbag , found their championing of viper hood didnt really come off that great either. I don’t want to be here , I said, and didn’t even want to leave a message, as I was sure even touching or dealing with this stooge, was going to leave a mark, as they say, or leave a greasy, grimy, smell, b.o. mixed with self reverential pride, which no amount of tide could get out of the clothes one wore into this sulfurous pit. Also, he Snidely Whiplash-ly , really he is that faggy, told someone requesting a review that he wouldn’t do it, and thus make his comic , uh, Famous. Then, why show his name or his website, Rexy...? Wow. He informed the audience of his being on a business trip…really, why not just not post…? Gee, how is Thailand this time of year…? Of course, this is all brand x Freudian horse manure, I hate you , I put you down, there fore, I am up, ect…really silly and snide, but this time it was so jagged and raw and cutting, as like a game of kick the can, with a can of Argo peas one had opened with a Swiss army knife, of the sorts of games played by mean little boys who like to hurl stones at birds.

I clicked off and decided that enough was enough, and I wasn’t going to send any cartoons of mine to a shit hole like modern tales which would link to this poison in the first place. Isn’t Modern Tales the baby of Warren G, the comic queen…? The one who hates Captain Marvel, while writing the death of captain America ,,,,who needs it…Fuck you and your smarmy comic crud, too. I recall a nun telling me, as boy, that if one goes down to the bottom of a well, at exactly noon, and looks up, the night sky is visible and so are the stars. In a trick of light, the space which holds the sun and the optical illusion of the day, at the bottom of this well, are made to seem more real, or perhaps shown in truth, and one can look up and see Orion, or Polaris, at the time light is blinding those on the surface of the earth. Supposedly being caught in an empty vat of wine and seeing this optical illusion helped Galileo realize that a mere toy and surveyors tool could be sued to map the heavens. Who knows. I didnt know if it was true until today when I realized that sometimes at a lowest point, There is a God who is available, and a creation which is unfathomable, and which calls out for one to leave the dank and dark depth of being in a long tunnel in the wet and dreary ground.
Interestingly enough, when I turned off the computer, I looked outside and saw a cardinal , red, and blood colored, and brilliant against the green of overgrow bushes and hanging leaves, and thought, I had come up out of the well, and didn’t want to really go back. I had my faults, but I was never so demented or mean to be the sort of fat kid who hurled stones at pretty birds and knew, in a way, I had never really been amid the darkness and the collected mold down the well, and still didn’t know if the night sky was visible at noon, nor did I want to find out.

Thursday, February 14, 2008


ST VALENTINE, ROMAN NEBSHIT.

Valentinius was a priest who got people to get married in catholic ceremonies which the roman state, brilliantly as usual, innately saw in the same light in which we now see Sharia, and as usual, a gay priest in Brittania sees the merit in any religion, and thus never having to work.

In a comic I read everyday, the italic, bitchier cartooness who runs the comic said that Valentines day, --the saint title having been dropped in an ecumenical way to get jews and hindus to have to buy hearts of clumps of peanuts and corn syrup,--is a made up holiday. As opposed to METEOR DAY, a day in which we all pray to that hunk of heavenly lead which came to earth and which we proclaimed as a god as it steams into the Utah flats. They are all made up holidays , dear.

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Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Tuesday, February 12, 2008


WOP COMIX


I was going around looking at scans of modern comics , why I am not sure, as I still draw out of my head mostly and do as I please. But came upon a site by a fat bloated pig wop named Tony Isabella, a real company dago as my dad would say, the sort which America loves to allow in to the middle corridors of its bloated and sinking imperium.


He dutifully made a point of saying how well he felt that Rudy had floundered on super Tuesday, as a wop as he is expected to do. As we all learnt from Cassius, one doesn't get those who think like the ring leader to do his bidding, but gets actually stupid and self deluded people to do as they were meant to do to achieve his ends. Like other wop's, --And they are Legion,-- Joy Bayhar, Joey Reynolds, the name Guiliani is shit, but I have always wondered about these house wops when saying that. It makes me wonder if romanticized , lionized and idled about zio nunzio,--oh they all just lovvvvvvvvve the Yiddish theater called the sopranos though,as they are always helpful to dey white massahs -- was caught up in the fascists new York dragnets along the way.


Of course, this Isabella creep made a comic called Black lightning, and of course , like Reynolds thinks his mulatto status makes him an expert on all races non white. See, in a black heroes name, the word black must be added and taped on, just in case the artist is still drawing Episcopalians, or at worst, Puerto Ricans, doesn't eagerly let on. It would never have occurred to this cow to have made roman heroes as I did, but then, I thankfully have never sold my soul to Marvel, or even for that matter, slave labors or top cows either. I have never made comics about zombies or the life of a cartoonist, and have stuck to roman ethics works, updating such things as that. I have turned down my share of jobs, thinking they were too benieth me, but that is another story.


But, mostly about Guiliani who this smirking wop calls a phoney--really even his cartoon likeness reeks with whorish, dago, affable, American Palestinian hood, I wondered why was it so heinous to note that yes it actually WAS RUDY AND ONLY RUDY WHO STOOD ON THAT RUBBLE LIKE SOMETHING OUT OF LIVYS TENTH BOOK, WHEN CAMILLIUS STOOD AS ROME WAS BEING SACKED BY VISOGOTHES AND WHO PROMISED REVENGE ....? WHY WAS THAT SUCH AND ANETHEMA TO YOU FAGGOTS, DEMOCRATIC CLOSET BIGOTS, POWER WHORES AND [suddenly ] CLINTON HATERS NOW, and more, where was Lucreztia that day...? Where was Obama ben Jesus that day, oh, still in the wizards lair learning to spin spit into imperial gold...? Perhaps he was making brooms dance, practicing his best tiger-st anthony pose, MAYBE GIVING OUT FREE LUNCHES AS HE FIGURED HOW TO SUCK EVEN MORE MILK FROM THE IMPERIAL WOLF. Prehaps he was learning the truely MACHIAVELLIAN TRICK OF SPEAKING INCESSANTLY AND SAYING NOTHING., THANKING GOD HE IS HIGH YELLOW IN EVERYWAY AFTER ALL. Where was John Mccain ,warrior Princess, amazon of all time that day...oh thats right, they SUNG anthems and then hid in the caesarian celler, this hearty band who starts wars so easily, hoping that a missing praetors jets would get to that ever so slow rock hurled by oSama, hiding like Greeks, Jews and women. But the building is almost a roman parody, worthy of MGM, or at least HBO.


Poor Rudy, like Poor Bill, there Roman delusions could never have even attempted to explain that the neo American fairy tale in which we are all caught. Sorry, my man Bill, reader of Marcus Arrealius was RIGHT!!!!!!! Finally, Machiavelli junior told the tuth like a saint, was derided by henoius house shitheads, like Mureen and others, who had suddenly discovered their decency, perhaps by asking Obama where they had left it and their car keys. No, Billy was right, and no one can sense a lie like liar, no, This is a fairy tale, and less Pentameron or Strapapola or Collodi , or even Wilhelm grimm, than it is walt disney. Zippidy do dahhhhh zippidey eyyyyyeyyyyyy wat a wunndful dayyyyy... This is getting weird. Personally, I cant wait to see that what happens when the rocks are hurled again, and the nigger and the cunt or the amazon are in their praetorian digs and I wonder how well any of these monsters will stand on rubble, like something out of a roman history all never read.

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Monday, February 11, 2008


AUGER

Here , in a cartoon done for a left wing Jewish pamphleteer, who loved my roman works, my goddess icon, a personification of a lost America sees what the patria has been then and now reduced to in its food fight for praetor.



Sunday, February 10, 2008


Starry, Starry Night

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Wednesday, February 06, 2008


ANY PORT IN A STORM

Audrey, my one time yenta neurologist, told me my talents all lay in cartooning and painting, and that writing was a hack job done mostly by uneducated swine and polemic screeders. Audrey knew of what she spoke, being a Jewish matron from Brooklyn, and having a pass to the Guggenheim,-- hey craze...and was a member of moma, ect. She adored Italy, and noted much in the way of roman ars going between fendi and Gucci, as I kidded her. But she thought I was a born drawer, as she endearingly called it, and she told me, her supplicant, to avoid her cousins and girlfriends in publishing with all my heart, as they were egregious. Dont be freaking Leonardo, she told me, Gawd gives every schnook a golden shovel and go dig the earth with it. Looking back, I realize she was right. I have emails from publishers which would make Obama think twice about the presumed open mindedness and justice and bleeding bigheartedness of his party.

I have been invited , I guess, to submit work to two comic anthologies, though the head of steam to somehow show up Cliffie-facey is starting to wear thin. Already I can proudly and romantically say that I was never jewy enough to spend time selling t shirts, like those men and hucksters who got Jesus Irish up. I have several pamphlets done for people who never wanted them , or picked them up, much less paid for them, everything from busty vampire porno comics to hardboiled film noir, i the jury bullshit. But the one in color wants only seven pages and the one in the black and white is open ended, but I cant take axes to my own work anymore. I cant make the work teetter like old troy anymore, and after all, when I have done so, it has resulted in nothing.

But the point is I told Audrey that someone at a place called fantagrphics, who I have willingly rattled the cage of off and on, told me to find a another field of endevour, as she, their editor, wrote in pen on a a cheap copy paper xeroxed rejection letter. Audrey sneered like only those of jewish extraction can, --and wops are good at this sarcasm too-- and waved her bony, well manicured hand as if to say, who cares. She told me don't ever let ANYONE tell you what you should or shouldn't do, what is this broad a rabbi, WHAT IS DIS SUMMER CAMP, HUH......? When I asked her if I should submit to places, outliers like marvel or dc, the woman who I think knew stan lee if i recall right, or went to the same high school, and who wanted me to go to edinboro or parsons, and not the aip, said, DONT YEW DARRRRRRE, THEYLL MAKE YOU A GOLLUM. A WHAT...?