12 September 2008


As a kid, I wondered why my pop and the fag priests were so , well, adamant, that I would be baptized in the tribe of the truest roman church. I wondered why they were making me read books years outside of being apportioned for a fourth grader, like Tacitus or Dante. But when I would ask my mother, almost operatically, she would recite to me of her beloved Oviddio, as if that explained everything. She would recite various Italian translations of Latin, despite her being an unsophisticated Italian like they would say on one of the loathsome, discredited, computer encyclopedias, as some times she takes off since I was a boy, and recites the tales with brio, until the nymph turns into tears or the gaunt man passes by the greyhound, as if a giant fuck you to the mamma Scorsese making marinara in mob movies. She would speak of the annals, or even of Emilio Salgari, the wop who took the basic pirate yarn and made it an epic, as they do to everything.

I wondered why they were so devoted to this, this second gospel , the hidden gospel, these bibles singed at the corners, and wondered why they , like Dante, their truest hero, adulated Virgil, as their truest son of god. It was Virgil who had an estate which should have sued Jew baby Jesus for copyright infringement. When the the bishops demanded that Constantine burn every copy of the Aeneid, even the burning cross boy, said famously to them to show who is the Caesar and who is not, --and so as the bishops would know who was zooming whom,-- "I have not become Christian, fellows, instead, You have become Roman...." As if to say , at any moment, the big bad Caesar to whom they would render everything, would go Nero on them, at anytime. Again in Italy, second person is everything. Why was Virgil seen by the fathers as a SAINT, A GREATEST SAINT, A MOST DECENT SAINT....? But, then, when, I see someone like John MacKane, and this solid gold dancer he had foisted on him days before his speech , even though he had been the nominee since March, --whats that about--and I begin to understand all.

Yes, that Was a hell of a SENATE, John, I read the war with Hannibal too, old man.I still recall it, though, and haven't replaced it for some assembly of god, anti catholic, anti jewish , rotten milk of human meanness, Christan bullshit, God knows.



I may have never mentioned this, but I was taught by Jesuit priests. With that as a background, I must say I think the chosen-ness of Pallid Pallin is still something of a disaster, or literally, 'the stars do not approve'. God almighty, when Mumbles Gergen , our praetorian for hire, calls a possible praetor and thus employer, well, Incoherent, that is something shocking.

Are you going to tap dance till the election, old man....?I made the mistake of gong to some where on this electric Athens called the web, called The Daily Kos, thinking perhaps a bunch of liberals would at least see the inanity of this old man and this milf as a running mate. Oh, but, these aging hippy fucks are into their own full out Holy war with their nigger prince, which is much easier to do, I would say, when the elderly hag hero of your party isn't calling on white working people everywhere to suddenly become legion in your progressive party, all to continually embarrass and hopefully derail the coon, who, to recall, you didn't seem to really want only weeks back. Please, take this bullshit about your self righteousness and beat it. By the way , grandpa Simpson and mrs Flanders isn't as funny, witty or Hip as Boris and Natasha, but what would one expect from these low rent,aging, fags...? I AM THE HEP CAT, as I try to tell people. This self righteousness is what my parents tried to inoculate me from, more than serums which the Italians have never needed or used, since the needles have been chock full of poisons since the time of Mussolini, and why all your silly little mean boys are all wheezing little creeps.

No, it was this sort of American strain of hypocrisy of which I was warned by roman soothsayers, and by even, yes, sorry, by Jewish yenta Doctors, who liked my Roman fuck you attitude at the Germans, that they once [and perhaps still ]really hated. Mister Savage, you have a call from the mossad, some things have come up about Pallin we would like you think over , BEFORE WE MAKE UP YOUR MIND FOR YOU...ANY ONE WANNA BET THE SWERVE MIKE TAKES OVER THIS IMPERIAL SHICKSA...? ...wanna bet this guy does a 180, as a good Americun does...? Even when they run for Praetor, no less...? But, Here , only in America, is where a party now can bald fadedly call for anchormen to be forced out, and screech incessantly about boxes of fake waffle mix, only weeks after their bloated house queen ,-- alas never to be czarina with my man Bill around--, was seemingly calling for this nigger to get shaaat, as another dutiful house Negro would say. I don't know why the republicans get pissed off over the linquini vertebra dems being wafflers, as they always somersault to the right,anyway, ...wait, Erkle doesn't waffle...?, you mean, I dreamt his little spin on drilling...? A fatiguing quality to evil, you say Nick...?

It is amazing how pompous and self righteous a party can be, despairingly most, its idle, computer jockeying white priests, I say, after they had just spent six months trying to destroy the poor dumb bastard, and found like Hillary, they just didn't have enough working decent white people registered, a crowd by the by that she was playing to shamelessly when the solid gold dancer was still a Yukon Milf, [ -- Dear Penthosuuushhe, I never thought I would write to you, buts I musssht shhpeak of this broad I was vetting one day....Holy cow, this broad has Shhhhhex in her wanton eyessshhhhhe ...] and the never was queen and cnn found, there weren't enough of those hardworking people in it as a party to give the old bloated cunt her desired crown. I might hope the nigger wins, just to see Hillary Plotz, but I will say anything about this coon, who you tried to derail as late as june, and I will say anything about Augustus, --which Ironically also means blessed by the way,--that I so like. And, like how the bombing of Serbia never raised an eyebrow among the pacifists, so, too, just catch a good non bigoted liberal like pig face Frank Rich when a curvy jewish girl falls out of imperial broom closet, like something out of Plautus. Spare me the Erkle as the Virgillian golden child, or in this case, Burnt sienna child, as I have had a gutful of that.


My mother had it pegged, as one would guess someone who knows Ovid by heart in this nigger- old man imperium world, would. She was vainly, desperately, fumbling with a remote, trying to pound it, to get the tv off of some show about both Mac Kane and Erkle and how both were , well, whatever bullshit cnn wanted to show in their incessant marathon of campaigning, drizzled as it were, with a light dusting of oil company commercials . "Put the cartoon robot , [futurama] on...", she said, though she doesn't much like that, "But, ANYTHING, just get these damn clowns out of my sight." Again, maybe Love of circus didn't doom Rome as much as save it.

I had received a package from Dick Blick, as I continue to try to recreate Mister Stupendous in almost the exact recompilation of a schoolboy verve, like Ma reciting that Italian poetry verbatim in the soprano infested new world. I brought a small crate of cardboard to the attic where I keep a stock of such things, and I saw that I bought reams of a perfect sort of paper called NEWSPRINT, which I might have alerted an uncaring Warren G, and also a mellotto vampire comic maker, that I sincerely missed. I also bought thick pentel pens with felt tips. I thought of how my dad was proud that I started to try to draw images off of old Roman walls as if a Tyberian true rebellion, in Coppola's wop inferno of egg creams, car fins, penitentiaries, and swamps of jersey. I held this beauteous gray brick of paper, which duplicated that which the Old man bought me then for a dollar a ream of 1,ooo perfect sheets, from one of his union brethren at the local cheap news paper, and I listened to the disco station here in Pittsburgh, 3ws, where there is some real music. I heard Bill Withers start to sing that slow soul aged hymn, and in seconds, I started to cry.

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06 September 2008


I have had to replace drafts here, as I have seemingly gone through another computer, and find myself now without any scans or the ability to scan new pictures of my work, nor do I have a word processor, either. Actually, I was using a combination of Jarte, which I must find again, and this very blogger box as a possible word processor, though am now on an old laptop which gets too hot for my liking, and have rewritten posts made in the heat of political anger and excised them for posts about something truly interesting, namely,... me.

I thought maybe I should have stopped going to web sites run by my buddies in Warez, like West bank Hunnies, Bootleg Kardashian videos You CANT see in America, My first Sex Illegal Immigrant Worker, Queens of Spades, BBW IN WESSON OIL, Big Asian Broads and my personal favorite Grandma's Anal adventures. But I haven't really been there in a while, and this old e machines hunk of junk started to deteriorate and dissemble infront of me just as the last one did, and when I tried to sue for peace by the restore disks, I got nothing but a flashing dash in the corner. A new windows disk cost 270 bucks, for what,..? A plastic short box without a disk, who needs it. But this lap top feels like I am writing on a a toaster....

I saw where Battleship Mac Kane , whose straight talk now is one parroted line, over and over, isnt she great folks,-- is now making a point that he is "Saving" small American flags used as a prop in the conventions. Wow, thats beyond Reagan Bullshit...Gesu H. Christ, somebody is starting to buy their won bs huh, John. He is going to SAVE small plastic flags, as if he just flew in from Iwo Jima. Gee, Jonny, wow...Well, its easier to do that than to save the country, huh, Cato....? My Mother, god bless that old bag, she said to me all this time, and again, like pop, she is something of a Mussolini fascist, but, this is the race of Machiavelli we are talking about, and unlike Jews, my famiglia has never been willing to lie to themselves. She hated mac Kane, from the first time he seethed his albino way into all our hearts, and she called him a fraud and an ape and low life and a hustler. And now, we have gone from the streight talk bullshit to a different brand of bullshit, much more acceptable to the snake charmers who still cant quite get themselves up for this election, without say, a rope. Wow. When you are playing the " I am the Honorable man' card so badly and so incessantly that it makes me, Roman boy, start to chafe, well, God bless Hesparia ...I mean, America.

01 September 2008


1. In going through some saved pages, bookmarks, that collect on my server like the grime of a tunnel too close to the rivers, I was looking at pages I hadn't really seen in a while. Actually, though I made a pact with the wind that I was off the fat chick porno sites, I needed some images of Penelope Pumpkins, a bosomy woman pin up doll, who is one of the basis's for my Miss Mary Amazon, and was hoping to get some new poses in the book.

I saw a page I had gone to once,... why did i save it, I wonder...?, where some schnook was pretending to be Stan the Man Lee. No lover of Mister Leiber, even I thought the page was not great. It struck me as the sort of thing which Moonies or Republicans might laugh at, Not funny, because, see, you cant lampoon a lampoon, you cant satire a satire, and Stan seems as though he was a natural at being a satire. Now, He's funny. As Capote, speaking of satire, said, there are phony's and then there are real phony's...Stan is a real phony, as he believes it. And too, this guy is a Kirby priest, --though, rabbi perhaps may be better, if even Kirby would even admit to it,...and appears to see Kirby, queen of hacks , as some Elvis of cartoons, blah blah blah, a lot of the usual CRAP. Again, I am placed in the strange position, as I seemed to always be as a kid, to come to the defense of a man I thought I disliked, Stan the man Lee, and find, perhaps, his enemies are something, like those of the mother Church, like insufferable boorish Luther's, whom I hate with even more Italic Gusto.

Oh, but this page made the usual Kirby apologetics look positively tame, this guy was a Kirby Torquemada, to mix metaphors, and his dower newsboy legion of Kirby fuckers is gallant and strong, keeps the faith....sheesh. This guy is STILL coming down from some four hour anti erection Enzyte and Hershey kisses mixed with diet Shasta made stupor hard on, and still has some hard ass vendetta --Jewish variation, with fountain pens and typed keys, God Knows, -- against a man named Vince Coletta for having quickly inked this masters shit, and not having treated each page like it was a yellowed page of Gioberti's original dome blueprint plans. Yikes....and away.

2. You all recall Jack the hack, the man whose career included trying to get a laconic C.C. Beck and then Shaffenberger, or even Pete Costanza ,anybody, thrown off of Captain Marvel so He could ruin that particular bit of Satirical genius, and thus bring Guiding Light- Procter and gamble soap operatics to comic books twenty years earlier. And, Jack is the man who turned the brilliance of Arthur C. Clarke into a variation of Adam Strange. Oh, yes, Hes the Leonardo like genius of human anatomy as a carbarator, who couldn't draw Superman's head. Yes, our beloved Jack the hack, his brilliance and his good ideas are legion.

This love of Kirby is bullshit, but it also hides something deeper and darker, an undertow if you will, in the sewers of cartoon land. Something ugly is at work here, heavens to betsy, not in comic land...ugliness, in this happy spot ..? Well, this fake Stan Lee guy seemed, to over do the Leonardo analogy, say that Kirby envisioned the I phone, like say a comic book Leonardo, so, That's right, Fuck you, Chester Gould....! And holding it, in this found stretch of the hack having created the iphone somehow in a land where car phones were something only the green hornet had, in a found genius piece of cartooning was a cartoon image of a knight...., who really knows, I dunno, ?, as who ever really knows with old Jake the snake?...who, as everyone does in Kirby land, looked like Martin Landau. EVERYONE, from Morgan Edge, to Betty Brant, in Kirby's tenement imagination, they ALL LOOK LIKE MARTIN LANDAU. That, bitches , is the sort of genius to which even Leonardo must kneel. Except , I guess, if he ever drew Martin Landau, then he would look like, oh, just guessing, George Layzenbee.

Despite the usual ford motor company parts anatomy, the arms and thick square fingers of these people, again, Old HACK JACK SHOWS NOT EVEN A PRETENSE OR A CARE OR EVEN THE POSSIBILITY THAT THERE IS A THIRD DEEEEEEE----MENTION, and again, their strange flat bodies have the chrome shine of jet aged Chrysler's, except of course, when he tries to actually draw a fucking car, and fails, amazingly trying to curve the metal whereas, in humans, he tries to flatten and sheen and buff the attributes of skin. Eventually he'd just give up and draw nothing but robots, who were even more soulless than his peepels. And the face is amazingly Byzantine, in that it seems drawn outside the laws of the previously mentioned Gioberti or anyone after the dark ages, in some strange paean this egregious house Jew, like Lee, seems to have to the Nordic gods of the alpine peepils. Amazingly, it is a face scribbled as though it were drawn by someone who had never even noticed or seen a face before. The lips , predicting Heath Ledger, seem to go past the eye balls, past the eye sockets, in fact, like a nigger joke said by the great Paul Mooney, cut here and cut here, and then goes seemingly all the way to the ear lobes. THIS IS GENIUS!!!!!! Homer Lives!!!!

3. Oh what a fool I was, twenty years drawing away, stealing from Roman walls, looking at things in motion, sometimes drawing women from TV, or flags or meteors I saw, as they flew before me, in an exercise of Da Vinci's, like the famous bouncing balls pictures. I drew out of Leonardo's Manhattan yellow pages sized notebooks my guardians bought for me, to make me an artist, when that word had meaning, where one figure was smearing in to the rest, as one unbroken line of pose upon pose, with arms going in various directions, and until the page was a thicket of pen, and it must be done in pen people, lines. They were cartoons of time, in a stationary but animated cartooning wildness, and still, ALL I had to do was ape this cunt, like the rest of you. But as a kid, I never payed attention to him, as few did, and nobody read that boom tube shit, no one forwent Romita, Swan, hell even Carimine Infantino, for that future of utopia where amazingly, everyone had Jew fros , looked like Abby Hoffman, wool socks were given out by the state, as where long johns, and who all spoke like guest stars in the mod squad. And when everyone looks simian as they strangely do in Kirby's Olympus Mons of left behind shit, hell, Ape is The poifoct word.

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