MEET ME AT DANTE'S STONE, DEAR CLAUDIA.

12 FEBRUARY, 2025.

Since I Was a kid all I ever heard of was that , perceptually from self appointed barbaric trash in Roman drag of civilization, the Romans fell over too many drag queens and bureaucrats, especially from a family of poor man's undead Kennedy from Hyanisport who, as ma would say, covered their Manzonian TORTURE CHAMBERS WITH lace curia's. Now it seems as they amazingly double down as champions of the brother in laws of power, stupidly and with no less than papal nuncios of the Villa of pope Wilhelm, telling them all the CNN horses are indeed empty, or that Narcissus is indeed a Bobby Darrin at the springs, they seem hell bent like a Jones's to prove how right they indeed are and were as their teams fall to smithereens.

Again as showed in an earlier piece about Ride the high country , the assured masterwork, and in the kind of writing of film that did-indeed impress the provosts of film schools than early and not that old, but did enjoy the classical brunt I brought to the then not even a century of old art of celluloid poetics, as was seen once as a nice controposto, if may use and Italian word that Jews who make shitty little now hated by many sit coms may disdain with their barley closeted alchemists of how to make a geek funny, to Scorsese and his life's work, as Noll said, and devotions and vespers were held to engender the love of middlebrows and white women at the sanctimonious buffet, and the out and out detesting by my stoic fadder of that crew, I could once as have said, write often and deeply about film in a way that they often and early on did like before the middlebrows of the new York-er, once made sport of my Anzio recalling mister Mike, although that as before the now slamming papered dons of the mouse factory did try to make everything they bought, no martyrs it's own roman affectation , George, tell me about the wookeis, George, into maddening and prancing vestiges at their various theme parks and sleeping beauty lands , which sadly in mid winter, Bullwinkle a gem of almost Vaughn Bode or Petronius satire is always gone, and a pale cartoon version of the honeymooners has alas taken his place each night, over reasons that I am unsure. So, with nothing really to watch, and growing into almost Fathers distrust and dislike of Hanna and his Barbara, I turned it around late at night, as think I eat a whopper left behind at the lunch, and watched Elsbeth, and was in no mood to merely now go to bed.

Since I Was a kid all I ever heard of was that , perceptually from self appointed barbaric trash in Roman drag of civilization, the Romans fell over too many drag queens and bureaucrats, especially from a family of poor man's undead Kennedy from Hyanisport who, as ma would say, covered their Manzonian TORTURE CHAMBERS WITH lace curia's. Now it seems as they amazingly double down as champions of the brother in laws of power, stupidly and with no less than papal nuncios of the Villa of pope Wilhelm, telling them all the CNN horses are indeed empty, or that Narcissus is indeed a Bobby Darrin at the springs, they seem hell bent like a Jones's to prove how right they indeed are and were as their teams fall to smithereens.

Again as showed in an earlier piece about Ride the high country , the assured masterwork, and in the kind of writing of film that did-indeed impress the provosts of film schools than early and not that old, but did enjoy the classical brunt I brought to the then not even a century of old art of celluloid poetics, as was seen once as a nice controposto, if may use and Italian word that Jews who make shitty little now hated by many sit coms may disdain with their barley closeted alchemists of how to make a geek funny, to Scorsese and his life's work, as Noll said, and devotions and vespers were held to engender the love of middlebrows and white women at the sanctimonious buffet, and the out and out detesting by my stoic fadder of that crew, I could once as have said, write often and deeply about film in a way that they often and early on did like before the middlebrows of the new York-er, once made sport of my Anzio recalling mister Mike, although that as before the now slamming papered dons of the mouse factory did try to make everything they bought, no martyrs it's own roman affectation , George, tell me about the wookeis, George, into maddening and prancing vestiges at their various theme parks and sleeping beauty lands , which sadly in mid winter, Bullwinkle a gem of almost Vaughn Bode or Petronius satire is always gone, and a pale cartoon version of the honeymooners has alas taken his place each night, over reasons that I am unsure. So, with nothing really to watch, and growing into almost Fathers distrust and dislike of Hanna and his Barbara, I turned it around late at night, as think I eat a whopper left behind at the lunch, and watched Elsbeth, and was in no mood to merely now go to bed. 

 

 

The film seemed to just start at , like, 10, and would therefore go on until the gauge said in winter-night shine, until 2, and I was in no mood to see it out , alas brunette Angelical heroine was in this, who a mean and snarling blond loving hag who wrote for a local rag, a cow named Urrichcio, and this was such a laugh line to some queer named Casablanca, of all people, at some gossip show haunted by the ghost of last Capri cortisone even then Babe Payly, the old relic with shellacked hair and nails and undertaker's grace at max factor Cindy whatsoever her name, at some E faggy show about Hollywood types and all, that prissy gossip columns, unlikely the woppish one who place pictures of models up on his vulgarian wall, lest anyone dare think his bearishness he had chosen meant he was as queer as pop tarts, he had sneered at this local writer for calling the heroine of the just found piece, the once pretty and pre witchiepooed up villain of always available for slurs by Jo Ann Warings and her magical canticle of boy loving boys life wanna be witch harry Potter. She would long after this journey to Italy, at which she and a less than prime miss Jean Brody would set down, a woman who looked like she was in the throws of consumption, it was said then, as as merger a showing of her less than bitchy wit that caused the cleft chinned , hair highlighted, smart ass-ed queen of gossipy television to pluck her from Allegheny obscurity and demean a nobody as piffling fagits have since the vomitorium days the Spartans that you know resent and always love to spit downwards as much as a possible.

The film was of a sub genus, a sort of film seen in Roman springs with miss Stones before this one, which already I recalled when first saw this with a father who was soon to leave me then, but I stayed up and watched if only for the image of a pretty brunette amid the mezzegorrnio exquisite light of that apostolic sin, which somehow like the iron deposits of the Tyber and the Master Cherry trees of Pinocchio's forest and groves in Liguria are always there for PBS and their shillers to somehow make it seem as I have seen that nothing the Italians have ever done or did anything more than just the collection of local bundles of reeds which though it the word smeared by some say as fascistic, is indeed the hammer and the ax that was the pre eagle symbol of the Roman republic,sorry Antifa, like the Bush family would;d take the word Vesta out, whether they like it or not. As after all, like Freud and his fear of manias and woman in the dark who make men mad, or made, as naming them mania after them, Marx was indeed like most Jewish Germans something of a Roman buff, as it was indeed always double billing Luther who they truly couldn't stand.

In the film, the woman, girl really still then, was that flower of English womanliness who have had to go to a Roman to evade woman haters since Arthur, who wore roman drag for a exquisite reason. I don't think that Roman Bill has forgotten our miss Maddow reconciling at his calling a coed who caught his eye, or was it liver,...?, at the quad, as he like I must have that nigh noticed that our bed-roomed eyed lesbian of at least chap stick, was so aggrieved over Trump that still she wasn't so devoted as to once in a wile shut up, as we know know they were indeed as I had warned , were being pay'd by the word, the syllable, if they could charge for them, and eye rolls and mugging are indeed the lowest form of politics. Or politicos. But at CNN, Ted comes to praise the bureaucracy not to bury it.

Really even as a boy surrounded by nuns I would have been shocked to see that waste fraud and abuse was yet again, just another pick up line of his own, and how to pick up girls as used by that bloated blow hard rapist Byzantine Bill, sorry, I have fallen off the bandwagon, Praetor Bill, but then as Pa said, when you walk with people who limp...and somehow he didn't survive being this close to the wrong shop at Pharsalia, and indeed the ghost of also henpecked Augie saw enough when you didn't depute the old coot segregationist whose very existence made you say that that era of big gummit was over. But then satire is in my own DNA, not festooned with fake devotions until it as it is getting closer, comes time for GE Theater to jettison whatever black chicks have become too egregious , to the true devotions of the building, selling bombs and toaster ovens. All, which usually happens only days after they dare take the holy sacrament of the revealed word of their holocaust and try to twist and bend it, like an Italian monk, to their own needs and say something Sisyphus liken as in #freepalestine, thus engendering the wrath of having meathead and ed Henry on the same disastrous side. They are having try outs, replacements all, for queers to lessen the blows and the welts of tossing negro broads to the curb in front of the armimentarium, the Bush familia knew all about the street in front of the Flavian amphitheater when I was a kid, and my father warned me of the less than Merchant Ivory movie that was Italay in 1948, as they these white devils who love deaths lashes out in Venice ever remember that those great sets did indeed see, as Catiline warned us, that whatever parades and riots that GE thinks it can engage, manage and even direct, yes rid that trigger I said of Biden sure that he would find some Perseid's that he couldn't survive, it was the law of who pied whom and in fact Bill Clinton got paid and he was paying out, see...?, well, that tripartite flag has seen more than its share of the fiery reds as the greens always manage to try to hide in the fruit Sellers of empire. {how did I know...?}

John Bushema attempt art school 1995

There is now a talking point, less like Jesuit trained debating, as if anyone can do that anymore, and more like one one liner after at the joke wall, Artie, there is not enough compassion shown for the mistresses and make work in laws of senators. Much less the hostesses that they traded up for, like say Layka did and would. It is a call for an empathy, that Bidey never much showed, for anyone, and is misplaced, and is indeed a soft tenderheartedness no one saw anywhere when Clinton the pig in this animal farm, said it was indeed time to be a fiscal hawk over welfare, cause that's what the polls and patron Fulbright away told him so. I watched the film longer than I would have thought it. I watched the sunny environs of mother Italian, that garden and palimpsest of ruination ruins, and too I was collared in by the sight of then pretty, pre witchcraft Beatrice ,still girl with the gate of goddesses pre Chalmers Dickens fag of penny dreadful calling all Italian women as witches like a fag like him might, as she gleamed and shone there as the perfectly settled English girl in these sets of historical farce, a, I thought, lovely woman that a women who was more than willing like various opus to live out her yenta creed would hate. I stayed with this longer than I would have thought so when found it this original day of the recalled beloved dead woman they have had since Cattlius' Claudia, and like I said, the sanctimonious among those who think a page on word press makes them into a new millennium Bennett Cerf, they always suit up and I will always be true to my Moral imperative and always tell off the alleged poets of empire, more Kipling and kippers and imperial London war colleges than not, and will make them recall that self same Catullus that appear and lives for me in those ancient ruins of columns made out of sandstone women now replaced by the war contumacious radio city, tragedy city tower of true mercenary,where satire and blood money gets to, if not die, fall to the phlegm of plandemucs unsought through. When do bring up Cattlius and his Venus hand made epics and shined stones, and they never spit back at that, though I am unsure why that would be, but then I was taught how to make an argument by the brethren, whose black and white pope is alas, we are starting to hear is dying away in the hospital that those who traffic in the virgin Mary and brought to when the bees wax of candles falls mute or at least enthralled.

She was here the girl the she of even the attempt at Roman epic and Italian often hated, but more so admired and even wistfully needed by English men of a Cartesian class, as it is the hanging gardens of exiled Ovid that slickest Willie did not only get his Oberon and his faeries of a midsummer;s night, smiled or not, but too, it was there that the witches of Macbeth also were birthed, which amusingly in our lessening and even evaporating time of wokedness, seems to have bothered more racists sorts than they have ever admitted to being. With a mane of hair showing the incursions of Caesars legions going back, if not the bivouacking of Hannable before he said a Punic Feh to that happy little island, her darker look not used to so much Conan Doyle showers, and a litheness of a Siren in a Gustav Dore fairy take illustration, I felt saddened to think she would eventually be wicthiepoooed up by being sued as a prop by that cartoonist goon, Cal arts wannabe, Gahan Wilson pretender, who had remade her, who had won that role of a latest vestal down to an always white dress, again shed be blackened up with hubby's inkiness sure enough, and like the miss Jean Broadie with her always as enlist matron of scared cattiness when not as in Carol Burnett, playing an Anglican tart with her a real cuteness, both indeed would get closer to the Maccers witches than anything, one good and one bad, of course, from Jo Ann depending upon what colored hair they were born with.

With hours to go in the Roman month of recalled bibles and beloved dead, replaced by a media of war consortium and Grimm's streaking mouse factotums with a black Castillo painted an always strange and even marti gras , princely Purpled, the planetarium of the medievel days of darkness so adored by that Klan and English professors, at which I have heard from well wishers and the ungovernable radials not willing to sell their soul to the bombs away leftists, came again to the fore as it has a want to do in our decline and fall. At the tower at which batterings rams are made to war engineers specifications, and at which many a Cato doth ever say a warning of Caesars triumphalism stealing Rome's heart as long as his is able to pimp without spilling his godly blood on the floor, a Jesuit preacher did tell me I had a Roman antibody in me, a ruin and vestige of the house of Agricola, an Etruscan warrior, but then as Gore Vidal can attest when once connects themselves back to that standard those who openly believe in freedoms land being a shire at which at least the chosen are allowed marriage rites, it can go Morley to the viking lovers to which Bilbo of ours should have never listened to such German balderdash and made up maps colored with paperback tea. At the sandstone towers, that used Toscanini and then Carson later to cover and draperies its war attuned stances, well, using that line I sued since a boy, Satire was what bleeds this time on Sunday night, as the anniversary of SNL was a dreadful slog I read, and all I could think watching a smidgen of it was we miss you mister Mike.

Its is already noticed that coming home to roost malt breed Maya –but not the roman goddess mind you but the more noble savage sorts I am sire, Rudolph, who was indeed the paper bag princess alleging Laugh in relic Lorne to give it to those who deserved it , like Oprah, and to somehow for some reason the sister of of a slain Italian dressmaker who dared have the impunity and the Gaul to be massacred by a wayward fdaggot,and like as in Manzo—sorry, Moscone, that can not be tolerated by again Jews in the armementarium's foyer. A channel perhaps getting even showed at their own prime time celebration of this long moribund show, that one done by castaway Larry David, who again I have stalwart rather liked, as when one becomes a millionaire shoving nothing at the people in so ostentatious a way, any satirist worth his saltpeter will indeed come to know that alas, hes a winner too, and will bade their tongue in the perpetual pit and pendulum for others known as ass dark and not black, comedy. I mean, Al Franken doesn't get to not be a writer at the National Lampoon and then take a thirty year John as the buddy sorrel of auditorium sketches and bel Arabs by not making sure,a s Ovid said, he is always the first one censored, of not reminisced, which I guess is a Roman joke even he would allays get.

I sat and even my brother, a hater of that show seeing it and Lorne as a come on artsy theater that which somehow derailed me from my own Georgetown destines , although I have told told him he was gone by then. But he said the basics of the argument was there, and sharper than me and more jeuistcial then I, that's all anyone really needs. Seeing a biography of Chris Farley as Belushi with more sweetness and as much fatso pain as any Arbuckle ever had, still, seeing Al Franken still doing an interviewer from his crown Vic , squeezing you in as an ex senator, frozen in first term-er back benched life, might, again, we miss you Mister Mike, who explained it wasn't anti semetism, just anti Jewish borscht belt humor that made the lampoon so great, and alas even as a boy I was Bored of the rings , something that driven around pig man Franken I suspect would never do.

And this night, as comedy wasn't pretty at all, but had a need it seemed for at first Viagra, and now a transfusion, as mayor of Encino Tom Hanks called the Trump voters, you know, the popular vote, recast which is funny as elitism is after all a cage, he would storm out soon enough, showing just how sanctimonious one can become when started his career in sanitized ABC drag. And May, in a fit of sanctimonious selfishness, why she wasn't at all those inprov shows at second city or as a grounding or wherever for nothing, though with COVID, that is soooooo before a segregationist lived out his Aurelia third act, she showed up and blew air kisses and such at all the collected geriatrics shoved into a room that was filled to capacity, without Bugs as Leopold to get even with Giovanni Jones. But, I thought, it would serve them right if this time, satire dndt just bleed on sayirday night, was alberfet Brooks there...?, but would in fact, exponentially fill up with piss and be given an almost deleterious respirator, as Martin Short who again was coined by Carson as funny, and he was not a fan of this , using his writers friends line, that NBC was alas thinking of doing a comedic version of Saturday Night live. I love how somehow dark isn't a pejorative as much as black is, and still get well insisting gals telling me to tone it down, to whac be thriown from the snate because Goerge Will loiiiked at me cross eyed, ah there is a floor!, no, no cause, if I was ever actually thrown from any of somnambulism he has haunted since the shah wasn't his friend, now that would be worthy of Livy, or one of the books that somehow Clinton got away with saying he adored.

Again with hours to go now in the month of the dead, that self same planetarium did give the Sejanus hatchet, we still call the cutting and at the football stadia a Turk after his jangling simivar, Lucius Sejanus, as alas, immigration isn't all that white women reek it up to be as need someone to clean their toilets, well, a black woman named Joy Reid was given the old pink slip, and told, deliciously to me, to be banished from the tower of Jeanie and Cowboy Bob. she cried like a woman would, me and bill are the last stoics, sad enough for you, but what did you expect from, an armimentarium that adhere to the lessons of compassion as taught by the Aquinas of Robber Welsh...? the way we live now. compassion for bureaucrats, better you had cried once for Italian grandmas once or twice.

 

Such is the third act, or catastrophe when one starts to believe that the dons of light bulbs are aye different than they were as Father Gore told is when Ronald Reagan too full of his own bullwhip dared speak ill of the Tennessee Valley Authority LIGHT AND SPINNING ELECTRIC MATERS TO THE FRUITED PLANE LIKE A DOUBLE BILLING PROMETHIUM, hey who is that again who flies over the Rockefeller center Christmas tree in a miasma of paganism that the barbarianism, as Tacitus said, sing of Hercules in Germany, again....? Anyway she was unformed as I knew and said somewhere shed be when she dared to say, all Charles rocket and shit, that Biden after all , his only attribute as being not Donald Trump, always a dealt knell in politics ask Cassius, bitterer such works, as Octavian Bill is always bewildering on the piers of Ostia, and she dared to say , like it was a insult of some kind, that this old man was an Effing warmonger, and effing wasn't the disrupts word to the company that indeed made a million dollar a day from what else, the TVA, for which Roland Reagan apologized and said as much he had this time, shot from the hip, as he always casting wrote a flier to Gore Vidal, sung he could mimic every great republican he needed to and would be the prefect Nixon, Joe Cantwell in The Best man, or even the Eisenhower charioteer if need be, but alas was turned down, though even gore later said, he would have been great at it, as he made a better Machiavelli than he did a Lorenzo. A wild fire, as it Were, started, and even always , well not always Keith Marcus Antonius Rachel was there to speak sonnets to the dead, or worse than that canceled, irony abounds in a decline and fall, but then, this was never liberalism, or god forbid radicalism, as much as it was poaching off blow hard, Negros see sometimes it is the word just is perfect, Miss, and others to never ask about the ethics of drone war fare or how panned obsolesce went to the front, hoo rah. Its amusing to my brother watching Bannion , a Jesuit student he noticed, give this woman a bigger audience than she should have had, Darwinism is all, that she doesn't mind being fed by racist hands, so tell that to your buddy Keith Olberman, he said, whose falling from bombing grace was barely noted by she and of course, he didn't check the boxes that she needs to get things shipped. As the month of the noble dead now more implemented than they thought as much damn the dago plebs of and Di Remini tragic and comic heroines of New Jersey for not voting for their beloved kamikaze Camilla, AND THEY SPANG INTO ACTION, at the armimentarium, LOOKING FOR SOMEONE WITH A SOUL TRAIN HAIR CUT, still, with hours left to go, Jon Stewart who came back at the worst time, tragedy is comedy plus timing, and the applause meter used by the Ted Mack is on the fritz, he was so angry at the goys and the plebs fr not being able to lift him as he had come used to, that he in full torch song melody, all he need was a boa, actually cut open his own hand with a worlds worst TV dad mug, and I was hoping for a Danny Ackroyd like french chef skit in which either real or fake blood came spilling out until he glossily crumbled to a desk of news which is something only this Jewish clown seems to use anymore as black anchorman Lester was also purged. did i ever mention that it was finding my brother's beloved Wally Wood EC comics and brothers Mad that changed me from a good little boy...? But I love Roman devotion, don't you....?

I sweep the nuclear dusts behind the leaden door.

 

LIFE OF BRIAN BLESSED.[ illos accepted drawings.]

21 JANUARY 2025.

1.ONE OF THE HIGHLIGHTS OF My short but impressive to some career at a Jesuit high school where I'd succumb to a myriad of ailments and such things to in a word, give me a reprieve from the admonition of the brethren, and which I still course as my having given in to them as fully as I had, was the writing of some papers that affected the brethren there slingshot-ting me closer to a Georgetown law degree perhaps than I wanted to get.

I then, had a RC LAZAR DISK that my father had bought for me as an then already reduced and almost ruined scratched and dent, story of my life, price at a local second hand store, that was not far from his. I did have the star wars in fact now seen as a clearest holy grail before a lifetime of Disney palimpsests chocked that dead chicken to a bloodlessness mess, and of course , Kane and the Magnificent Ambersons and the great Minnelli ballet with Gigi and handsome rigged Pittsburgher Kelly, as took my share of ribbing and worse from previously mentioned Alberta about being a queer over a love of Loesser and Burrows and such Broadway babies and most happy fellas and guys and dolls, funny coming from a creepy wispy blond, always, kid who lightly flit from storage room to storage room with the collected clerics of perversions of rectories, and or others who are now trying to fain back a catholic dispensation, lost with jokes on South Park about the Catholic boat, and lost too when the little sisters of the poor of all people stood in Obama's way in a way that torture and Liz Chaney don't anymore. A piece of advise I gave out to the winds swirling around dear sad victim Kamilla, a brunette as first woman president,...?, in that fruited plane where more babies die in prairie than Columbia, surely you jest, go to the catholic dinner, Al Smith dinner named for the first Catholic they the Democrats defamed as there is no day set aside for Sacco and or Vanzetti, a mentioning that bothers the poetic hared don't you know...?, dear, as any chance you get to glam up and remove the pants suit Hillary wore as an iron maiden, take it. 

 

ABOVE:TONIGHT ON CBS, THE ROPE BY TITUS PLAUTUS.

I too, had a large floppy I now guess they were, of Camelot with the great roman stand in for namesake Dick of Liz and dick, when Lizzes were made of sterner stuff, and of course MASH, the Altman movie, Popeye, an equal master piece hindered by the egregious Mork, who finally died, like Bidey, as a sacrifice to gods of Shakespeare and Mozart having had sonnets and a lot of night music coming from unheard by white over fed women on the Hillary coven who knew nothing of dare I say Salieri,as we now know from letters that it was indeed self aware of his own level of DNA genius German blood oath genius, it was Wolfgang or Leopold, whatever, Leopoldtttttg!- WHO HATED SALIERI AND NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND, AS IN FACT A ROMAN TEXTBOOK AS I HAVE ALLUDED SPOKE OF BRUNO'S CONSTANCIA OF THE SUN BEING JUST ANOTHER STAR THAT THIS HAPPY MUD BALL FLOATED ABOUT, EARLIER THAN GALILEO AND EVEN COPERNICUS HIMSELF AS LIKE SALIeRI'S OPERETTA ABOUT RACIAL CATILINE, WAS NEVER FORGAVE FOR IT, AS HALLS THAT Rachel Maddow would be en-gusted by one day to be a boilerplate alchemist, Oxford would have so opined the well over Bruno that clerically and always he'd be eventually put to death as a heretic by catholic Italy, over the angers of English swine at the Ox Bridge, showing again, it has been at times a nation of Scorsese's all looking for a line of credit. Worse than Jews I can plainly say.

One was of course the true masterwork of I think, 1964, winning the golden laurel of Venice and Paris as best picture over Jules et Jim and Amacord or one of that blaoat's interchangeable warnings to the west of perpetual Satyr-icon,--I've always been a fan of the grotto- the western if it can even be called that and humiliated to such a degree as that, the masterwork, Ride The high country. A brilliant deconstruction of the form , if they even had that middle brow word then, the great Sam, Sam Peckinpah, the American Corbucci, a master despite the cheap joke at his expense by some asshole football player who made too many smokey movies and then bitched about his career, despite having never taken Larry McMurtrry's calls for terms of enrichment or any last or other picture shows that he was offered and passed on. I saw it again in these coldest dark days of a thankfully over year in which, not to be an ingrate as I tole my brother, in which I have done well, as the resume showed gain , despite any putting down over and thereof, frankly I saw it call coming. I have done well, though still, as did get some pieces of this sad tragic year of an old man and his perpetual final days coming in the Perseid meteor shower and not the wintertime as the Tuscan's called the winter swept plains and weeds,and so in this darkness, I have sen again, not only the Great race shown , but Ride the high country as a kind of vestige of an America that was before. It was a gorgeous movie, a real movie, an adult movie if I may, from that fifteen year period of about 1962 to about, more or less, the onslaught of star wars and its Kenner Toys as a replacement for actual plot.

THERE IS A MONET IN THE PLAY, STOLEN BY THE AFOREMENTIONED Larry McMurtry, as old cowboys, and yet, done with a deftness that Duval wouldn't have had given to his Augustus, with smiling almost joker like Rory Calhoun and a preferentially Jack Webbing like Marshall assistant tells him in the rough country side as they go after the later take to be Polaroid taking wife of Jimmy Rockford, I thought of the line by Mussolini who , though dismissed by the idiots of national socialism, he told them to attack that happy little island, rue Britannia, Bullwinkle, but alas like a black forest Hannibal, Doge Adolph liked murder and killing and this vengeance, more than he liked victory. The no nonsense Marshall tells Rory as they indeed are riding horses with an aplomb and a way no Duke Wayne ever did, no el dorado or Rio grand or even roosters much on this last round up, he says to the other old man I just want to leave my house justified, a moment that can , sorry Broey, cause at least me to tear up like a Rocky un vanquished which is more than Playing Jake Lamotta can get out, or will as he has disrepair, I know no boat can hold both De Nero and George will at the same time. George will seems to be again unblinking and trying to get his life jacket to c-2 canister up and going. Sellers remorse. By the way, the next time George will says he has the way to get the Democrats out of the woods, tell tinker-belle to drop dead, and sat that way, as the red light, Joy number 2 at the planetarium, merely means you and your sottovoce asides are indeed on the winds, as it were.

FOUND THE PERFECT MODEL FOR POW-GIRL. 

2. As I wished to say, I met Jimmy Carter when I was a boy and didn't have to worm my way into the Cyclops and then pretend that I was a liberal lion days and days after having thrown raw meat at the plebs by openly demonizing the first black praetor and the first Italian woman speaker, and yet was fine with a segregationist....humnnnn. I didn't have to have him sign in please, --this is the year essays about Steven Colbert as Captain Kangaroo and My name is Steven Colbert, no MY Name is Steve Colbert,-- well, I was the prefect Virgil for Polyphemus hell as its been a bad year for that cretin, starting with sneering at a princess with illness, and then ending with laughter he didn't even think was elicited by the applause meter and hit him in his smirking face. No, I was warned back then about Northwestern as a Prairiea sewer by the brothers. I LIKE Jimmy, EVEN MY STOIC IMMIGRFANT FATEHR THOUGHT HE WAS A HONORABLE MAN, no Brutus affectations, just in over his head, as opposed to the goon from Wilmington who called Mario Cuomo un- electable, for which signora Fortuna, ah that goddess a lesbian editor was shocked to think I actually believe in, takes at least scraps of flesh from hell bent for Augustus mantle, each day. Nothing says bully pulpit like a man covered in scraps and tissues and band aids, although that might be sin city. I hold dear to having met the Georgia farmer as a moment of Republicanism, in the true meaning of the word, and like Roman Bill, who keeps an 8 ½ snippet of film of his meeting boyhood hero JFK, believe me had I met corpse Bidey as I was ten, I wouldn't have been anything I'd mention past the police report, but then we didn't do much of that then, as again I was just told to keep the hell away from Northwestern, no matter what.

But what I love the most as this old coot burbles and stumbles into the wings from which this understudy should have never left , the costume alas didn't fit, the first prerequisite of acting, as all I needed to know I learned in Plautus, and as Livia the wife, she does go into the golden hour sunset—or is it an inferno on sunset ...I'm too literate for this crowd,i mean what is Catullus 64 anyway...?, what I adore the most about his last day which I watched as I saw Namath crumble while a 49er, was that Bidey, a bush on dark night, end indeed was what I always thought it would be. I alas was the Virgil or at least Joel Gray like MC, benvenute, to this farce, as said before anyone, he'd bee a half term-er if that, and the mistake indeed Barry, was keeping him around past his exportation date and not getting rid of him with a modicum of dignity of even for that matter legality. Was it that importunate to have given imperial pardons to Dick Chaney's hag, unmarried daughter, of doctor Facci, and does ditch death's commutation include any crimes committed during AIDS, DO YOU KNOW, OR EVEN CARE...?

What was-so important about this all, I am still unawares, a flurry of imperial, even Vatican like commutation come down from the segregationist in chief, as again, that stopwatch ticks for thee, Steven. You have circumnavigated yourself to being not only against Trump or even his voters, but that last envisage of importance and legitimacy, the populate vote, but then as the man with too many fake votes didn't know that his stealing of the white house meant it would easier for the Clinton's to get their revenge, ah another Jesuit student who read the Augustin history, and they didn't even bother to not clear the desk to make you know, tabulate rassa liar Walz semaphore with a modicum of importance. But, decorum doesn't go far for street-level aldermen, it never much did, as my brother predicted when political hacks of PA came to woo the monsignor who ran this little Chicago more so than any mere gunrunning pimp, it was indeed a visitation to the famila Manderinio that no Milton Shapp ever much took. And with his usual grasp of the legal and the governmental, Bidey going out the door giving dispensation to the republicans that he always was the mole and the double agent for, has been splitting effaces all his life, when Bidey said that acceptableness of pardons and commutations did not automatically mean that those people thought or were guilty, sorry, within moments, even my Jesuit pre law ears perked up, that pardon you hated once, for another Republican who all didn't have a father in the Requestor business, push the drones Rachel, dear, Nixon, so, the library of Gerald R Ford made sure all knew that as has been since that pesky Roma that Tolkien and Biden so hated, sporty, acceptance of a commutation, indeed there is a de facto, I believe the word is, allocation, like a pocket veto, of indeed a cry of mea culpa. You remember the mea culps, ladies, like Bill wearing that tie that night, and making the clowns who unlike Carson's running joke, were indeed allowed and excepted the help's entrance at the white house to always give us the imperial story. he tried to get out of town and say that this was no allocation of guilt, but it was again, nothing else. Gore Vidal's warning comes to mind, an echo through the mash like chopper blades, as the accidental predator lives out his losers creed.

But again bets part was that according to Bannon's cadre of Jesus freaks that always give me the willies, Roman lover I be, they were screaming about some slight they saw that Antifa radicals, in masks and crimunal blacks, lest anyone recognize them from the soutrhfork cotillion, as it was Poppy who started the tradition of trashing Clinton's inauguration, despite any Delta less designing women showing up, just like at Anita Hill, and Ollie, the buy guys first real pardon, they bitched and said that Trump was actually thwarted in some giant pageantry of coldness that didn't help Biden to have Bernie swaddled like a Youngman comic at the last one, and was sent to the rotunda. I don't expect much more than this from Tolkien lovers, and Jesus freaks, who wrongly speak of the Judea-Christers tenants of The Republic, but I thought and said extemporaneously, what fools these swathed in black tv show radicals make. I THOUGHT IT WAS A PERFECT REBUFFING OF the smirking Klobacher and her grade school book report of Greek “democracy”, as the next time you want to demean, depose of and dismiss the will of the people, radical chics, don't have your enemy take his Roman oath, no oaths are an anathema to the Jewish mythology of racial purity called a testament, again its all Roman, and don't have your enemy stand there and be given power more invested now, than it would have been as such a pronouncement was taken under a twelve foot marble of Minerva.

MODEL FOR DRAWING ACTUALLY SOLD OF W. 

BEFORE THE TRANSFIGURATION.

 

 

3.AFTER An advent of being stuffed by a declining level of attachment or even a liking of the Office, during the slide into worse than mediocrity that the Steallers make into a yearly perennial garden of weeds, and this year it is so bad the call in shows on KDKA out of hand are hanging up on the populi more than ever, as the mask of comedy had become a mask of tragedy black face as cork as ever, and the inflicted a a black hobbit in the shires of Tolkien coach is now angering more than ever, and when the sanctimonious are upset as I can tell him, watch out. I saw where a black head coach was gotten rid of by a fat bloated Jewish yenta of an owner of the patriots cheaters all, took the black man given the job with much fanfare, and without as much, and even a silence of the acquiescence class. Even gap toothy morning host credit to his race Strahan, with a fake record in his perpetration laughing life , who is indeed he laughing at, the troops...?, was ver klempy and showed an irritation that this usually saved for the star spangled banner or whatever patriotism that Cotton goes to meadow-lands can muster. Funny that the man behind buying TV time to say he is against hate, like the 60 minutes daring admit to 70,000 people were massacred to a sacrifice needy Yahweh but with a hook-nose and thick lips, no Jupiter here, Yahweh that eats blood, couldn't let the Son of Ham have a second draft to try to put something together more than the surveillance equipment that the previous cheater left. But in this holiday that I much enjoyed, I forwent any more Office, as saw a late night , when the relatives come, I hide in the room with an older television, and watched the great Carol Burnett, CBS would have worse days as we now hear mea culpas from the lights and wires in the box, and she was with the grand comedy star Tim Conway, as Mister Tudball, and she was the cigarette skirt and gum chewing , and I thought, wow, this stiff from when i was a kid was a boy was funnier than that sanctimonious and smarmy shit of nowadays.

There has always been something about the swells trashing interns that I found egregious even from that feebler tree called the Democrats and their perpetual crocodile tears through the smirks. I wasn't showed when Robin Williams took his own life, as what else would palacchi do...? So, I watched instead saw a channel start showing a new slate of reruns, including Peggy and Al, I forgot as a kid who much like liked Peggy Bundy, in a verse Nabokov, much more than the slut daughter, a bad girl blond, a cram cheese going to turn, and how sexy, sorry, I found harlette big red than to have been, as I never god why the husband so hated sex with her, but then, when in doubt its probably a gay joke out of Plautus, a. I started watching The king of queens, again, not much watched before in real time, I always thought he was too close to my own queer cousin Gino, a mouth breather , a chgoto as my pop called that sort, but I found it and a good cast and of course Jerry Stiller as steal-er of the show, and started watching stripped shown shows of this relic as a holiday came to its dregs.

In this show, there was most admired by me, the wife, again a pretty wife with a blowhard fat husband, as it has been since perfected by Jackie at Dumont, and he unlike boilerplate creeps apparatchik television now, he never got a Emmy. And the girl wife, who is pilloried for being fat on a few shows as saw that week, as I think was at that time really pregnant, was a good sport, a brunette able to keep up with Stiller, and even touching about it all, as instead of being like the goldenrod haired egregious and sickening Pam on that now dissipated like Christmas tinsel Office, who seems to revel if not fault the fact that in real life and in Rickey's fevered mind of what was funny and what was true, ah Plautus., there is layaway in comedy what is true, and I found her much more beguiling as I ever had, a pretty Italian girl, the Wendy are conspicuous by their absences now, and this woman, feisty and funny and sexy , the woman with the name for Dante's true and real Italianate Juliette, she was a jewel in this show, as somehow in not too long, the tethering that Hollywood had to the working class has been frey'd by a boat of Jews now trying to not recall when they were bridge and tunnel people, or at least recall that a lot of those bridges and tunnel people as said in a bought and published cartoon, lesbians alals love me for my bitchiness, a lot of the Italians sentenced to live in Flushing new York, or as the comic said, not a worst of ideas, well, it w as Robert Moses who lead that exodus and crossed if not the red sea the Hudson, as he took much of the causeway network and cemented over whole parts of love island, and then sold it in acreage to them who wanted a Capri, and this who had been just there and now were escaped to get Michelle's dry cleaning and llattas. Our crows is the special of the night, Mister Trimalchio... She is not I hear going to of all people Jimmy Carters funeral, which is alter all, a Paar for the course,, as Versche I guess didn't work a lot in Franciscan black, as queers since Borgia never much did.

So this was the year that I threw a Lilly at and to the defiled ruins of Biden, warned of the Cassius in the steps, of black rock no doubt, and somehow while he festered and festooned, and became the last senator on roles paraded around by the angry plebs, I, while you all started with such hope of George Will telling us there was no fall of Rome or BBC fatsos honing to thrash Brunelleschi and writing off the junket, somehow I managed 32 separate and distinct acceptances of my work. Hither and yon, and with a roll that petered out a bit towards the holidays, though still got a healthy amount of please resend or keep submitting, sometimes I do, sometimes not, and with two on rescinded thoughts and taken back acceptances, for meaningfully nothing more political than redone penthouse pets in Benedictines decadence in white vestal dress, although when one thinks of it, that is political to Mother Hillary and her witciepoo coven. I added to my resume such things this year as anti Steven Colbert pieces, WILL THE MYSTRY GUEST SIGN IN PLEASE...?, one about semaphoring windmill weirdo Waltz, Boris to Kammila's Natasha Fatale, and who called that...? him showing his his wife's touched up x rays like a Youngman joke, now like zod in the phantom zone where the sanctimonious send their losers, why indeed old man Joe is a vicious old soul, and wont let his death fingers off the imprimatur lest he fall to putrid bits, THE LAST WALTZ, an only piece of the unmaking of the president I took down, or never even posted. And too, Ancient Romance, on the previous fest of Janus, the Etruscan myths that made the Apache give me a certificate of black haired brotherhood, and heavy metal sketches and cartoons, a pen and ink Penthouse pet called over sexed now as Joe Califano is hectored by the overfed, chicken delight lesbians who don't recall who or who didn't vote for Goldwater, Even a Capt Magnus, leaving MR S., the only thing of mine, never published. Fully.

3.AFTER An advent of being stuffed by a declining level of attachment or even a liking of the Office, during the slide into worse than mediocrity that the Steallers make into a yearly perennial garden of weeds, and this year it is so bad the call in shows on KDKA out of hand are hanging up on the populi more than ever, as the mask of comedy had become a mask of tragedy black face as cork as ever, and the inflicted a a black hobbit in the shires of Tolkien coach is now angering more than ever, and when the sanctimonious are upset as I can tell him, watch out. I saw where a black head coach was gotten rid of by a fat bloated Jewish yenta of an owner of the patriots cheaters all, took the black man given the job with much fanfare, and without as much, and even a silence of the acquiescence class. Even gap toothy morning host credit to his race Strahan, with a fake record in his perpetration laughing life , who is indeed he laughing at, the troops...?, was ver klempy and showed an irritation that this usually saved for the star spangled banner or whatever patriotism that Cotton goes to meadow-lands can muster. Funny that the man behind buying TV time to say he is against hate, like the 60 minutes daring admit to 70,000 people were massacred to a sacrifice needy Yahweh but with a hook-nose and thick lips, no Jupiter here, Yahweh that eats blood, couldn't let the Son of Ham have a second draft to try to put something together more than the surveillance equipment that the previous cheater left. But in this holiday that I much enjoyed, I forwent any more Office, as saw a late night , when the relatives come, I hide in the room with an older television, and watched the great Carol Burnett, CBS would have worse days as we now hear mea culpas from the lights and wires in the box, and she was with the grand comedy star Tim Conway, as Mister Tudball, and she was the cigarette skirt and gum chewing , and I thought, wow, this stiff from when i was a kid was a boy was funnier than that sanctimonious and smarmy shit of nowadays.

There has always been something about the swells trashing interns that I found egregious even from that feebler tree called the Democrats and their perpetual crocodile tears through the smirks. I wasn't showed when Robin Williams took his own life, as what else would palacchi do...? So, I watched instead saw a channel start showing a new slate of reruns, including Peggy and Al, I forgot as a kid who much like liked Peggy Bundy, in a verse Nabokov, much more than the slut daughter, a bad girl blond, a cram cheese going to turn, and how sexy, sorry, I found harlette big red than to have been, as I never god why the husband so hated sex with her, but then, when in doubt its probably a gay joke out of Plautus, a. I started watching The king of queens, again, not much watched before in real time, I always thought he was too close to my own queer cousin Gino, a mouth breather , a chgoto as my pop called that sort, but I found it and a good cast and of course Jerry Stiller as steal-er of the show, and started watching stripped shown shows of this relic as a holiday came to its dregs.

FIRST COMIC STRIP PUBLISHED BY ME, WHEN IT WAS IN THIRTY YEARS, RATMAN. 

ABOVE: MACHIAVELLI IN LOVE. ALSO CALLED HEAD OVER HEELS. 

 

 

 

In this show, there was most admired by me, the wife, again a pretty wife with a blowhard fat husband, as it has been since perfected by Jackie at Dumont, and he unlike boilerplate creeps apparatchik television now, he never got a Emmy. And the girl wife, who is pilloried for being fat on a few shows as saw that week, as I think was at that time really pregnant, was a good sport, a brunette able to keep up with Stiller, and even touching about it all, as instead of being like the goldenrod haired egregious and sickening Pam on that now dissipated like Christmas tinsel Office, who seems to revel if not fault the fact that in real life and in Rickey's fevered mind of what was funny and what was true, ah Plautus., there is layaway in comedy what is true, and I found her much more beguiling as I ever had, a pretty Italian girl, the Wendy are conspicuous by their absences now, and this woman, feisty and funny and sexy , the woman with the name for Dante's true and real Italianate Juliette, she was a jewel in this show, as somehow in not too long, the tethering that Hollywood had to the working class has been frey'd by a boat of Jews now trying to not recall when they were bridge and tunnel people, or at least recall that a lot of those bridges and tunnel people as said in a bought and published cartoon, lesbians alals love me for my bitchiness, a lot of the Italians sentenced to live in Flushing new York, or as the comic said, not a worst of ideas, well, it w as Robert Moses who lead that exodus and crossed if not the red sea the Hudson, as he took much of the causeway network and cemented over whole parts of love island, and then sold it in acreage to them who wanted a Capri, and this who had been just there and now were escaped to get Michelle's dry cleaning and llattas. Our crows is the special of the night, Mister Trimalchio... She is not I hear going to of all people Jimmy Carters funeral, which is alter all, a Paar for the course,, as Versche I guess didn't work a lot in Franciscan black, as queers since Borgia never much did.

So this was the year that I threw a Lilly at and to the defiled ruins of Biden, warned of the Cassius in the steps, of black rock no doubt, and somehow while he festered and festooned, and became the last senator on roles paraded around by the angry plebs, I, while you all started with such hope of George Will telling us there was no fall of Rome or BBC fatsos honing to thrash Brunelleschi and writing off the junket, somehow I managed 32 separate and distinct acceptances of my work. Hither and yon, and with a roll that petered out a bit towards the holidays, though still got a healthy amount of please resend or keep submitting, sometimes I do, sometimes not, and with two on rescinded thoughts and taken back acceptances, for meaningfully nothing more political than redone penthouse pets in Benedictines decadence in white vestal dress, although when one thinks of it, that is political to Mother Hillary and her witciepoo coven. I added to my resume such things this year as anti Steven Colbert pieces, WILL THE MYSTRY GUEST SIGN IN PLEASE...?, one about semaphoring windmill weirdo Waltz, Boris to Kammila's Natasha Fatale, and who called that...? him showing his his wife's touched up x rays like a Youngman joke, now like zod in the phantom zone where the sanctimonious send their losers, why indeed old man Joe is a vicious old soul, and wont let his death fingers off the imprimatur lest he fall to putrid bits, THE LAST WALTZ, an only piece of the unmaking of the president I took down, or never even posted. And too, Ancient Romance, on the previous fest of Janus, the Etruscan myths that made the Apache give me a certificate of black haired brotherhood, and heavy metal sketches and cartoons, a pen and ink Penthouse pet called over sexed now as Joe Califano is hectored by the overfed, chicken delight lesbians who don't recall who or who didn't vote for Goldwater, Even a Capt Magnus, leaving MR S., the only thing of mine, never published. Fully.

 

EX OFFICIO.

29 NOVEMBER 2024

As I have said and told others I took a break from the truly awful television of anti Trumpers , especially the rhinos, who the people have never liked, and each time I see a walrus like John Bolting I thank god he isn't my friend. I did say before anyone., that Chumley is beyond a mere bushman uncaring and flippant disregard for life, as behind lace curtains as ma said, they throw other means sons into a fire pit quagmire that is unheard that far back, again like something out of Tacitus. This old fat pug he loved blood with his unswerving beady little eyes and his blood soaked mustache, and his layers of warming blubber, and I have nothing to do with him or anyone like him, as I said, again before it was written in the holy books of exit polling, that every time peppermint patty Chaney showed up anywhere enter the appointed fingered queen– and I have just seen her thanksgiving message she feels mo pain and three sails to the doldrums, and Apo ho ho and a barrel of rum, happppppy new year, wow i haven't seen a performance like that scene foster brooks, –it seems even skeletal Carvel is starting tow WONDER now how the hell that all that money go poof…ah a Jewish husband, well, there’s a jack Benny joke in there somewhere. Maybe daffy.

We aye leftovers, in what has always been my favorite part of the year, before Christmas decadence gets too schmaltzy, and is still sweet and fresh, although the lesbians who are out to like Savonarola degree charismas , ah it is always the truly devoted who hate the effect if Saturn, and i wish that chapter had survived in Ovid’s fasti, and a over the air channel, a s television must be, or should be, shows a strip of I Love Lucy, and two hours worth showing it must be hitting a nail on its democratic head somewhere but then who in god's name is still watching Colbert…? As he shows again, like Josh Shapiro is shopping in Hershey Harrisburg what happens when all the ambition catches up with you and your stick, like Milton's Satan where you thought you weren't going to have to be. I saw the one in which Lucy writes a book of the month club, which ma was part of before somehow i dragged i feel everywhere here down, and how she is upset that her firsts ale is for a textbook that says don't let this happen to you…she is crestfallen, isn't the name of the toothpaste in wacky packages…?, and refused to take the check back then a good amount of money. I thought of the wall of Italian farabotos, their favorite word once coined and sanitized by Jebby and removed from it any arabesque, that i have faced since dared call the Satyricon a master work, as it as seen was of course porno, by both the drab hags and the uptight sex hating but war adoring witch crafters, by the Hillary coven not too long ago, bout now, was a piece of gay literature they never heard of at will and grace, like say Gore Vidal, and now is repackaged at penguin as no less than a gem of world literature. I thought of like situation when i was first trying to get some acceptances back then, and how a cartoon was accepted of how to draw compilation and how it was accepted , then with the ulterior sadness so prevalent in the ghetto of comics then and now, i was told this was to show a lack of true deviation to the comic form, etc, etc, like that was to make me feel bad, or that id slink away. Well, asshole i said to that crew, it was accepted, and bought , so i don't care if you burn it, but i have sent it out and demand the paltry 10 dollars i was told as the price thereof, and since i sent it out, if i didn't get my check, well, I’d start trouble well, as they in comics always struck me as the creeps that have been perpetually thrown into lockers by the crepes whose girls they sniffed around, anyway. I was sent a first check, no i think i made 3 dollars for a comic before that, and i told them, listen, dears, but that picture whether you liked it or not was an image i had stolen from Wally wood’s mad comics as a kid, and when they assured me not to make the mess i assured them i would do, it wasn't the principal of things, but in fact the ten dollars, they don't know who Wally wood even was and i knew as it always was, i had cast pearls before slaughtered pigs. As like with Donald Hollinger in an early that girl resent in another that girl weekend didn't catch that intently, when he was offered a publishing in a dell signet like paperback lurid novel and turned it down to be a scribe at a middlebrow news view, i thought, not me, sir, i will take any and all acceptances, as its resume or it didn't happen.

Saw a never Trumpers creep, thin lips, Nordic fold, the whole magilla, and so how very upset he was on GE theater with the trash he's had to have his brush with all along, strange bedfellows and all, and how upset he was that Bidey has given his son a pardon, papal clemency that only days ago they said only evil Catiline would ever do.

Too bad, Fritzie, but the cotillion has come crashing to the ground, and when the slumming is over Maggie and jiggs and the rest of the cast of little nemo in slumber land find themselves in the gutters of the gape by word. Table for ten mister Trimalchio, the crow is not delicious, filling tonight. Too bad, isn't it though, and for the thousandth time in annals of history a less than Rome senatorial class patrician family is trying to pretend again they rent in stables once, but like their bag men will always return, no matter how many chickens cross the road.

Fw: The Aesthete

me

To

ergot.press@gmail.com

11:07 AM

Nov 25 at 11:07 AM

Anthony Acri www.antoniusradiocomix.blogspot.com

Hide trimmed content

----- Forwarded Message -----

From: WW <wineorwhiskeyandtheaesthete@gmail.com>

To: "antonyacri@yahoo.com" <antonyacri@yahoo.com>

Sent: Thursday, November 21, 2024, 8:25:50 PM EST

Subject: The Aesthete

Good afternoon Anthony,

Thank you very much for your submission to The Aesthete. After much deliberation, we have decided that your work is not right for the November issue.

We did, however, enjoy it, and hope that it either finds a home in a different publication, or that you will submit it again for consideration for a future issue.

Sincerely,

Wine

Thank you for any kind word as I find again what really bothers some who make a point of typos is in fact almost a John Cheever , though am not a fan, attempt at vernacular as much as anything. Like calling it the Tyber so bothersome to those for whom Chaucer's Decameron is mute.  

30 November 2024.

In 2020, I wrote, and got published which was a thunderbolt then, a piece called THE PRINCE OF THE CROWS, in which gloomy Tiberius Bill Clinton was alone in the Shady groves eves of the fractured fairy tales of Basile or Ward, and he, as the pinball wizard, assured Bidet that who ever destroyed him it wouldn't be him, and i had been alerted that Jesuit boy was screaming that the horse of Bidey was indeed hollow, they poo pooed him and so, his revenge was getting even. So daddy empire it must be a sad day at casa de Bush at Kennebunkport, and bidden shows again why poppy and bar did work so diligently to keep the praetorium from a vowel ending Cuomo or Ferraro or god help is a Greek, so much for that sanctimony, as today the Irishman showed his Irish exit at its best. When there are gray skies, I don't mind the gray skies, cause there is you,... what's my name…?, SONNY BOY! AH THE IRISH, THE SICILY OF THE VIKING SEA. SO EAT THAT LADIES, NOW WHEN @JOYREID chopped off her hair as Romans did to Etruscan brides they ‘married’, you don't have to be illiterate to work at GE but it's sure does help, and as wage salvers and organ donors at the armimentarium dare ask dey do why now are they fired at the holidays but Rachel dear is just getting a cut in pay, it's a Saturnalia miracle, Keith. I must ask in our Scorsese world, now why has woke sentiment has been left in shades like this ,and why was there no attempt to keep the sanctimony of ethnic casting , @broneydeshannel to old Rome, and why is a English queer like @ridlyscott allowed to appropriate Roman anything…? See as even i could have told them, the senate, not what it ever was, as Denzel dares lecture it know that George Siegel is dead and what was one called by gene sickle the worst movie of the decade outside of I spit on your grave, and maybe worse, two thumbs down ironically enough, why now are Romans played by Anglicans, and why did the alien queen get to make a film about Rome, that closest i ever got was the Etruscans asked as i was, if i made it up, and said back to silence that unlike Tolkien and Conan that i don't have to make up a noble past that my father told me was the Nazis biggest mistake as they alas never had one.

So happy Saturnalia to the music of the spheres and Ma and Gore and Guvner Cuomo , as I spent the weekend watching the office , that's another entry will get to, a happy Saturnalia is had by all, as I’m sure that the next time they ask you to swallow this much phlegm and bile, Rachel dear, don't ever do it for someone who was against busing. See cause again have a knack, as the nuns exposed, too much hated by Newerker Manzoni and Machiavelli, as I did pick up early on in the joyfulness that the rag that father gore called the police gazette without the warmth and quickly they had her as triumphant as she with MIA foot soldiers the last waltz, who Aeneas couldn't laid a trifle for a turkey shoot, they were both not in a triumphal chariot but instead a thunderbolt, like at Kenny wood, and again like Ridley who thinks the Romans senators didn’t wore blue sashes, now indigo was sued as pigs blood again was an only due available to them, and they never heard that quo ascendant necesse est descebdere. I did see even the Disney movie beat a crumbling gladiator, did you know that the wizard of oz was actually William Jennings Bryant…?So, no good deed…

2 December 2024.

As am hopeful as Romans ,Virgil attesting, Balms --seeee...?-and his Pentameron like CS devoted fairy tale to Prairea and WJBryan, the original wizard of the file cabinet, does eviscerate the latest non needing to be sanctimonious, plebes hating, gladiator, crap movie. To the @broeydeshannell ‘s of the world who took woke crap seriously, why is an English fairy allowed to play Livy and cast white girls as Livia…? As it's always nice to see carbon copy house nig Denzel call the Romans a "they" in their own town, I ask what happened, Lindsay to casting stereotypes by the numbers like Mad , four Italians is an opera kind of thing, and whatever happened to cultural appropriations and why is that English queer still later in the same perpetual war for perpetual peace, tell me about the Romans George, why is all that suddenly allowed…?. Well to any cow willing to eschew their family over some had broad, they refused to cry alone, and have almost Savonarola disquiet at roman festi, as opposed to the plebs who won't be caught dead watching political diatribes amid the soft drink and pharma commercials, now now, Rachel dear, those toaster ovens don't sell themselves. Like plagiarism, eulogies rest their heads again, over who was the lowest rated vice praetor ever, A neat trick. where is indeed the money, doll, to me, a Spillane about things, maybe you had to barely steal NJ for a reason. I do keep sending out first drafts so bothersome to low brows, middle is out of the question, who don't needno stinking blue penceeels, and yet I don't think that's what bothersome so much, as suddenly buddy Bill is taking victory laps on Lucy and Desi in the morning and laughing it up as Biden is being descended on by the buzzards of Twitter who want him gone and think he's everything I said he was. Father Saturnalia was the first holiday man to give out whippings to the little rancid creeps who killed little kitty kats all year long. 487 views while watching the Cowboys scratch one out...as pop said The tongue goes to the tooth that you busted the worst. Please, if Kamilas husband was Italian and not Jewish he'd already be incarcerated, …

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iSa-nmeorCk

An editor gal, a lesbian perhaps, but a democrat like Carvel unmoved by hoi miles from war consigliore John Bolton, got back to me over some either cartoon or essay eBay out in a flurry of such as I sometimes do. She commiserate with me over a distaste of The Office, but we watched it here all week took a break from the now as filthy as they've ever been alderman politics of this filthy little man who is dragging the simony pious to a level of their disquiet as unseen since he allowed Oliver north to go before the snake in the trappings of dress grays and with again a stage immunity and not being put under oath. Ah i recall the chiefs at midnight and how he always took the side of the people you hate do you recall,…?;, as wage salvers and organ donors at GE TV start to want to know why the hate being pink slipped as the gals of empire vogue on Hadrian’s wall, although a good Marxists I’m sure recall is already bitching and moaning about every dime. I recall when i write a good wife speck disruption which a doppelganger for her in the play was about and out fired, they aren't that smart, was fired by general technologies the owner of MSNBC and she , a grand dame Hillary witchiepoo brought in Italian Perry mason, my certain, Virgil girth , and dumped her own woman barrister in my play Diana Lockheed who as verklempt until she raised that Virgil indeed was out to trash television in Toto, and had on the and the still then useful to getv mercenary George will, Hans Muller, just like Colombo, but alas i always figured that at the sandstone tower of Olbermann, well, believe is something anything was a always a non starter anyway. My brother said don't send it on, and didn't, but i did get published somewhere the easy about seeing the rerun of Carson with the great Petronius Gore Vidal, who to Johnny’s amazement told us all that indeed the democrats at the judiciary did indeed allow Oliver north, writer of a white paper on how pandemics could be used to keep old coot Regan in when it looked like Gary hart could win, not if bidet had anything to do with it, and so, alas, i too from that age believe in more than just being on television, as Colbert and Rachel so commonly and doggedly do. But now they are yielding into the corner of their TV Basilicata, meaning literally here the divine root basil, as in Basile…? Are and were allowed to grow greedy as a hemp like sacrifice to Ceres, so again, bush family, you'll never really get all that damned Italian and or roman out of the wool you festoon on yourselves. You were expecting what I thought as a schism opens up between the house colors and fat girls and the never Trumpers Rhinos on war memorial television…showing again, wash the pyrite fleeces that all you like…

She agreed with me, as i can sometimes get even ware lesbians to do, the illustrated by the overly circumspect leap me in Juvenal allure was and allow for me to be shocked as some even were when Bidet was told to amscray, showing in the end he paid for everything and still isn't DONE GIVING BLOOD, THE CLINTONS ARE NOTHING IF NOT Brian Blessed in their own roman pantomime dragged CHARACTER ARCS, with that dreadful gummaddi wife of his knowing yet that in fact he was the had termination that i suspected that he had as a destiny all along. I did say how awful it seems that the shy sad girl wanted to be an artist but alas in the wasteland of Laura petrie, she was rescued to brood mare to that smirking goon, who sometimes we saw the truth would out and everything i thought of him was indeed said by the invisible laughing hand of executive producer Rickey, well being English among Jewish theater television had to be better than vulgar they. She liked that in an essay called The Wall, more Augustan history than pink Floyd, i said that , and she thought i did that all well, unrequited love was the hall mark as it were true art and literature, this leaving the rats of the swamps of that happy little island, England. I emailed back, thank you, as find i am alas and alack trusted more than any pants suited anchorettes at the armamentarium, that indeed unrequited love , at which i hold a masters, is the essence of great literature, i.e., Catullus and Claudia, Aeneas and Dido, Dante and Beatrice, and of course, Ulysses and all the fellows in the horse. Thai made her laugh showing again, like you all I am still stick in fifth grade, but alas with a bevy of approving and some not, nuns and brethren, I am not stupeed enough to think myself as awakened to anything in fact have been bitching about as the ice-cream man, a bag man ford Clinton suddenly wants accountability from a candidate and where, ah the Romanist of ethics, where is the money, doll…? The republic always strikes back, Claudius.

As my brother and I went out into the feeding cold, as didn't i call predator Joe the snow miser back when, and so he leaves as he came, on a film of snail slime, a worthless and feckless old coot who rose to close to the moon and thus had his wings freeze and has come troubled and troubling back to earth. He thought my line about unrequited love was both funny and sharp, but he asked me as the winds blew back and hard enough to cause the old coot to diaper lest he ever have to answer for everything, though now we are hearing that sonny boy hunter actually held a sword of less than Damocles over his head and proceed to go states evidence on pop, said i shouldn't sue my own references and what they think of as obscura to the even well wishing in publishing, who like the church he never trusted. My brother is like the great Indian character actor Claude Akins in Support your local gunfighter with Jimmy Rockford when anyone came up to him, he made a hand gun gesture and said, smartly, what’s yur angle….?

I told him I liked making some people ,more than others, look up who Fred Mertz actually was.

4 DECEMBER 2024.

As for some reason that hated word populism takes a fore across the globe , parliaments filled with those that parliaments have been field with sadly since the more cabinet Tuscany senate, a 1000 years older than any later corrupted Roman sort poo pooed anyone who thought the nearby swamp kings of Rome were a legitimate threat, the world seems to be if not shrugging off an atlas, maybe he has had enough and leaves the round world that even the Romans know it was, to its own devices. France, and even South Korea is papering the world surrounding the ocean with writs of nolo confere, and notarized sealed and delivered acts of non confidence, and all at once, as the praetorians always try to save themselves first.

We watched as I have said, a stripped daily The Office, until as he is sometimes given as another round up of reruns, my brother said, get these ffing asshoels the f outta here, and that showed we had seen enough of this. But there was a sad and sweet moment that I’d see when alone in the cold tree imbued light darkness, in which the frizzy haired Beatrice , Pam, so scurried after and chased by googly eyed insufferable Tim, who seems to be dodging a poor man's Martin Freeman as haven't even seen the original Ricky Gervais show yet.

She was at some art school show, and i have been there both android and not, as the two bagger latino-queen Oscar and his then never to be seen yet again jack of all trades, made a point of what art should mean when one is toll a student and is if just working a pencil closer to artfulness than any John Somin like queer will ever be, as Voltaire taught us. There always is some political need to these art critics which disappears when they are told amassed to vote for someone who was segregationist not that long ago and who is now left behind in a liter and a deleterious bramble of kited checks. I felt an empathy for miss tits not felt much before or after, as she was soon to be told through the sue of the nuance that commedia dell'arte has always sued, even if unknown to those who for the costume and think they are so damned abate guard, anything that has a French word associated with it is an ultimate slur, as neuve rich says it all without having to be slurring about it. She vainly tried to escape the underground that people like here hours, greasier shield Rickey believe in, as somehow worthy of Amimnius who had an eye for the inferior, but busty and comely Italian girls as an early tom Jefferson, they all out appease now looking ABC at the way back machine called free television, that all here have demons with pretty Italianate girls, like Rashida Jones, but alas, they always return to the titan haired Laura’s of not out and out blonds like fellow weirdo Amy Ryan, who is always the prize at the end of the treadmill of corporate America. Then Michael and without him that show, a s my brother noted is a slog with some Muldoon from the dread daily show, and he is a awful bizzaro like re-imagining of Michael without the warmth, and he comes to be touched somehow and somewhat by her attempt at art which no less than Leonardo said, is the fulfillment of art itself more than many around then tracing Michelangelo would ever understand, although Mike didn't ask for anyone, especially Raphael, whose name was smeared by a art movement in dire hapless little island Brittan, which alas would not last as long as German fascism, when all was said and done.

She had painted a water color of things she had seen, an art exercise used in drawing and writing even my the Jesuit when I was a kid, so somebody either knew or guessed at how are, despite television is somehow made, and in that sweet moment, Rachel shows her a moment of compassion, even forgiveness as we were making faggits then in TV land, unlike the ones i had as kid from the society of Jesus, who knew it there is anything to apologize for, art is never it. Of course it was reduced to is there something in your pocket or are you glad so see me, as every old vaudeville joke i have heard of Morey’s was here, including best in show Rainn who was alas , wearing the suit his grandpa was buried in, Plautus is everywhere. And i noted someone have a moment of green gauche in this place, no matter what it wouldn't happen, the slow slouching towards Gomorrah left to be a desert inn Vegas if it could have been by a yawwyah who always , according to Solly of Taurus, had a apple in his eye as despite and against the rural Jews but for the Romans and their butch creation, a Cain again never apologizing, Yahweh could get behind that better then always whining Samson and Cain’s who always splitting differences and all, the blue collar thug who, like Rashida actually make the plot carriers, like Syphilis more human than they be without them, comes so see her art installations. And Jim assuredly always with a eye bent towards catapults of business, was not, and was at a Connecticut , suburbs home of the CEO, and is always willing to , like Fred Arisen say a camera caught Eyechewawaw, and then crash the cymbals like Rachel Maddow, i'm sorry, Ralph Monroe. And speaking of her, i thought as see the retains, all that ever matters in our political killing fields after all, that when I was ten, i too wished to be cbs teleplay writer Paddy Chayefsky, and I thought here, there was a human story, alike a beloved Marty, in the fact that a pretty ish Pam, a solid 5 and a half, with gargantuan, for television and its harem of white non Italian women television, bosoms, though, there could be something cute about this blue color thing with her, but alas, dear Rickey didn't fall that far from the shire and its poisoned apples, or for that matter appellate court.  

I think, as it was prophesied at the time in the Washington post that very day that Stephen Colbert has come to the end of television. And since i was ten years old and wished to be Paddy Chayefsky, i looked up that last speech that Bill Holden gives Faye Dunaway in the holy writ to me of Network, read by me as the sibylline books, and a speech that Holden wanted to give and traded casting with Peter Finch, as Paddy wished to get the sanctimonious

Holden played the mad anchorman, and Finch did win the Oscar anyway.

INT: THE LIVING ROOM 168.

- where she stands in the middle of the room

And shouts at MAX through the open

Bedroom door

Diana:

(cries out)

I don't want your pain! I don't

want your menopausal decay and

death! I don't need you, Max.

MAX

You need me badly! I'm your

last contact with human reality.

(MORE)

MAX (Ccntd)

I love you, and that is painful,

decaying menopausal love is the

only thing between you and the

shrieking nothingness

That is the rest of your day…

He slams the valise shut.

DIANA

Then don't leave me…!

MAX

It's too late, Diana! There is

nothing left in you that I can live with!

You’re one of Howard's

humanoids, and, if I stay with you,

I’ll be destroyed. Like

Howard Beale was destroyed= ! Like

Lauren. Ebbs was destroyed Like you and

everything you and the whole

the institution of television touch is.

You are television incarnate, Diana, indifferent

to suffering, insensitive to joy. of life is

reduced to

Common rubble of banality. War,

murder, death are all the same

to you, as bottles of beer. The

daily business of life is a corrupt

comedy. You even shatter the

sensations of life into time and space

Into jagged fragments of minutes

seconds and instant replays. You

are madness, Diana, virulent

Madness and whatever you touch

Dies with you.

Well, not while I can feel pleasure or pain, or love.

Oh, hell, Diana, it is over between us

I'm not sure it ever really happened,

but I know it's over.

140

I

He turns back to. his valise and buckles it. DIANA

finds a chair, sits in it. A moment later, she raises

out of the bed. Max is lugging a rain·coat as well as the

valise. He lugs his way across the living room, t.~en

pauses for a moment, :reflects –

- MAX (Contd}

It's a happy ending, Diana.

Wayward husband comes to his senses,

returns to his wife with whom he

has built a long and sustaining love.

(MORE)

MAX :Heartless young woman left alone in her

arctic desolation. Music up with a swell. Final credits

And here are a few scenes from:::,.

next week's show.

141

She disappears behind the foyer. We can hear the click

of the front door: being opened and the

door closing. Diana sits in her chair, pulling the

shower robe.

Hello Anthony.

Thanks for submitting your work. Regretfully, we won't be adding it to our pages on Typishly. We're grateful you chose to share your creativity with us. Deftly depicted: 'the Cop show backdrop that the new Romae had become, the Capitoline of the west that it once was, now a mere playground of subway assaults...' Quite true: 'some starlets from the Fellini days did become at last round up, blimps.' Notable verbs: 'somehow tunneled and wood-wormed his way to the magazine.' Well said: 'tin and metal boxes where secrets were kept as long as anyone could want them there.' Unique writing voice, densely allusive.

Be well. Be creative.

Jon

7 December 2024.

I think it would please my stoic, dignified and somewhat aware of American plastic father to know that I am his beloved son, and there is no doubt of that, I am here to see the end of television.

The rains come down incessantly, it is frigid and yet not cold enough for a Barbara Stanwick Sydney Greenstreet like Christmas in Connecticut, a favorite movie of ma’s, and somehow redone, but of all people, Arnold Schwarzenegger, which the whiskey and bucolic settings were replaced it would seem by men with burp guns. It is as though the world itself is trying to ash the Bidden criminality away from it, perhaps even put out the myriad of fires that this troop of morons seem to either be devoted to making as revenge or is just the third act that Marcus warned us was the ending to all idiots, after all. Next time you make a stolen presidency, if the Augustan history Teaches is nothing, is don't give the people and yet incompetent in bard Galliano’s, and keep the midnight clowns now thinking no one will recall their fat little lives of misogyny and death threats against them, with a dollop of the always the war adoring cretins like John Bolton and George Will, who like their hated Clinton, are at the core, chickens in the Caesars farms. The third act always does come, and although Clintonite bag man skeletor James Carvell dares call body a tragic figure, bringing up thoughts of the gods of comedy and tragedy, it is perhaps he and his own party who will reap the mud storm, if not the ice pellets from the cold miser as he is unsure enough of the arts of politics or literature know when to take a bow, or to scurry off the stage before, as it always can with him, gets worse.

As u have had a good year as opposed to ay the praetorian guards, if they aren't in a tizzy as we speak, as no one cut my salary in half, now get out and jiggle when that steak is burned, Rachel dear, but then, I said i don't trust any liberal who would work or even get fired, Keith, from a sandstone tower armamentarium, which puts to shame the poor mud huts where the mere Romans kept their knives. I made sure that year i took my victory lap and made Wendy the goddess into the feminine incarnation of mother Italy, as showed her as a antlered deer queen worthy of the Roma, am Etruscan goddess lost to history or at least re cast as television always must, as a later , but still dirty haired and somehow brunette Celtic queen named Belonnerix, bodice, whatever it was. I did make the mistake of watching a Saturnalia inclusion at this end of the lunar year that I did getting forty bucks for something accepted, took it, placed it on pay pal, some don’t take that anymore , but haven’t sued it much, as here in freedoms land and the home of the brave, a good plutocrat, after the Romans god of the dead or maybe its the dog, but not the planet, one must pretend to feign the same attitude towards things as Whoopee, when of course, she isn’t apologizing to the Jews in corporate over not showing enough due diligence to their hemorrhoid like devotion to their dead, as opposed to say all those wops so killed by fbi informants, laughingly called a mafia, as that is always good for a few Sunday night at the movies laughs. I took the fifty or so mucks, from a check my brother cashed for me …was it for anything having to do with July is the most imperial month, as I do and have done well with the drawings, but still, whatever it was , was called by someone as heir of sorts to Franzetta and Royo, who i have come too much like, and to be hornets, have plagiarized as it seems okay now that both counsel and proconsul have stolen their diary epistles from the front from least somebody else.

I took the cash and sent it out on submit table, those who ask for such a largess to get a quick response, and gotten at that writing one from the both, a rejection, but it was so nicely wondered and laudatory it makes me wonder exactly who gets published anymore but those who constantly kiss ass. As somehow the world is afire now, and i don't much care, but somehow France is , as it always is in mother’s beloved Hugo, on fire and manning of the flying buttresses, devolving into a chaos, that i knew that the old snow miser was bringing with him, and leaving in your laps, as it were. Disposed and disposing, the word is from Axioms, but then, he should have never proceeded to a rose garden or for that matter a Tacitus, not that I ever liked him more than Sallust, like some. My brother was watching scruffy, but rodeo rider, Banion, like me his sprinkling of end of the republic allusions as with clinton pleases him, he told me that of all people, Klobishar, now freed with the joy that comes with contact lenses we now know the romans had and was refund in a renaissance that never happened, she is a chicken in the henhouse screeching at mars, that drop of blood in the night, as she is waving a warning flag amid the ruins, that she is against all this pardon shit, and as my brothers aid, a few days ago, these pardons being so open minded weren't pardons at all, but mere nolo contendere plea agreements, and even a woman finally saw that. So f yourself, sweetheart he said of her, Try to keep those plates spinning in the air and try to keep your career afloat,... as he sees them all as bigger whoers than even do i and in fact, the trash of MSNBC is devoted all but their morning zoo again afloat is the perfect word. as now the thieves of empire have to get Latka into the senate, and steal house of deputies seats by hulk or by crook in allegedly blue states, the cock crows at midnight, but as i said before anyone before, i saw the look on gurgling and burping and achita field Mackane the day that comedy writer Al Al Francan dared call himself a roman pig farmer, and so again say , Tony Clifton despite his good soldiering, or maybe because of it, the joke is on him, as like the Senate became after Constantine,... its restricted.

7 December 2024. 

this is a day according to bits and pieces of Ovid and others, was the day of the birth of the Roman superman still called Hercules, as Heracles , admittedly Greek interpretive grace, stolen mythology, but then 40,000 people didn't just die over the metamorphosis's did they...? So, it is funny, how that image above, did bother some when was alas a boy sending work to various new York outlets and even the house of girdle makers like stan the man, but then i have always bene shocked by their love of money, which my roman heart should have ennerured me to long ago, but despite all, I am a romantic. 

On December 7th 43 BC, the first night of Saturnalia devotions and temple receiving, both quiet and gaudy, just like here, as roman loud mouth and conspiracy theorist, actually it is said he believed in nothing much but his own seat, was arrested by the Octavian he supposed the revival of the republic, heheh, against Antony, showing again those who get in the snake seats and higher Rachel dear, aren’t as willing to eat shit as the dogs always are. He did, I heard, get a wonderful eulogy from Augustus, who didn't hate him as Antony did, but again, remember Cattline enough to figure the blowhard got what he had coming. The plea agreement they finagled from uncle Caesar, ran out. The great republican had his head mounted to a door, as one again, it was shown that yes, Virginia they built an empire over your dead body.

10 DECEMBER 2024.

The differences from last Saturnalia to this, and especially from the Christmas fog to now are gargantuan. A magazine seeing my unneeded and unwise connection to my own blog, which i don't usually place into anything, nut had when i ctrl +c’d a resume, caused them to renounce and replace an acceptance of an again unconnected and apolitical outside of her being a brunette, which always bothered them, or some, and not others, or not some, am image of my playpen cover of a spunky woman in white was at first seemingly accept card then was not possibly over July is the most imperial month, as there is a strange devotion to an old segregationist that i don't know why old democrats have to a corpse. Although I have a feeling it isn't good. I too then renounced to sever another dime in this frigid and yet thunderstorm blizzards, as sent in a last 6 bucks to some sheet called typishly, but allays my admiration for Capote and especially Gore, are a mere echo to many now. I renounced doing any of this, and despite paying for expedited resumes got almost none and since sent it out before when to bed, and got a rejection when opened up my computer after bed and wanted to watch the cowboys somewhat, i had an inkling that its quickest response couldn’t be that great and haven't opened it yet. I asked my brother to get two MO from the local Sheets , a seven eleven type of bodega, and field them out and gave them to of course the American terrains, the Indians of the windswept plains, and to the soldiers also give some money to, as we now have liberals who take out their alms and give their indices in blood, and as ma would say, that is too Lutheran or me. A stat boy like house wop is arrested for the acceptable murder of a ceo, which my pop warned me about being a foot soldier ever for the dogs of Venice, or that backwater here, as he weaned me, when the Forever bothering Italian would get you, and for me, he said, they would, no matter how sharmt i thought i was, that martin Scorsese and or cupola would not be at the jail to give me bail, maybe a Jewish PD, if that. Within moments of hearing a loaded word to the tribunes of the plebs, knives holders of a lower rank, manifesto, dead giveaway to the shadows on the wall, of stat boy Luigi, Pontius jewish John was sent out to blast him and dehumanize him, as when your family owns country clubs, and you pretend to be a radical, well, like many and like their best read, you got the Latin and the Plautus character wrong. And we can see now as a corpse is applauded awkwardly used in the Kennedy center, was Colbert mc of this, and was the megellia dell oro given to such a vaudevillian and Billy crystal, who will ever know…?

I decided then and now, I wasn't giving the con job known as submittable another dime. But we did have a Urbis de Orbo Saturnalia message from the fat bloated pope of Hollywood, dyky Rosie O’Donnell had to tell us, in a Last Waltz sort of lack of privacy, had to tell us that she indeed has herpes, speaking of Greek democracy. The human pap smear known as her then went on a triad against Trump, always a back stop, and i wondered why we even had to even hear that so soon after her plea for the Menendez brothers, to show the new Sparta’s true kindness, as i had in the pool, syphilis and the over.

I went to the doctor that I have been seeing almost this year to the day, doctor Jugdish, ad it as quickly done, as I am in better shape than I was last year when I started to go there because of, like America, chronic seeming conditions. I have in that year , from dick van dyke binge to binge, as recall how ill i felt that day before that as i mailed it last Christmas for Gummaddi Gilda to play Jackie o,as wrote a piece, broken up, a part of which, Saturnalia in the ruins as accepted, along with free Conan, although the parts with Bill Clinton as father Christmas were unacceptable, although as i have said i will indeed take what i can get m anymore. I am at 260 lbs, which seems like a lot, but last year at 280 pounds which means I have somehow lost 22 pounds by being as diligent as I can be at doing first two the three and now four miles on a stationary bike each day. I should have lost weight before, and indeed i have lost triple digits from when I was over three hundred a few times, but still, like much less, I think I should have been this devoted before. Why did I lose so much weight…?

A hearing of possible health concerns from the fabbale Pakistani Indus river dottore, as i'll take a Indian doctor, though preferred a Jew, as when asked if i wanted to see local wop Doctor Cicrerelli, i said ill see him when i need a gunshot wound kept off the books. He was the father of a red headed gal who thought she was miss thing when i went to school and again, when she was kinder to me should have been more affable towards her, as i wasn’t ever thanks to fearing some story of rabbit trap set by a little faggit named Albert Curio i was stuck in a school i wanted to leave long ago, but my father thought his friendship with the maffed up monsignor Fiscus, THEN MEANT, AFTER UNTOLD AND UNREPOSTED THINGS DONE FOR THAT SALF SAME CHURCH MY FATHER WANTED  NO PART OF ME BEING ridden off by the blond sissy son of an asshole that sold insurance as a god given devotion. Did i lose that weight because of seeing Lisa Ann Woycheck as i call her, after so long and at that dollar store where i bought a now summer’s day broken batman smaller than id have liked. And i haven’t been able to jump over that fens again between me and her, Fuck this high school meals shit, my brother says as hears me careseranly dictate as scratchily type away a first draft, Don’t pout dirty spoons in the coffee cup we use as a guilder for silverware he tells me, but still, he is sure i have spent to much of our lives caring and giving a goddamn about those redneck old days of school where indeed i was a good kid and a prose winning student, only to eventually allow snide little Albert to have his run of a fleet of boys rooms called valley high, and purposely so. Now, he is a bartender at a queer bar, as the entirety of the age of Gore Vidal, according to Limbaugh was over thanks to an equally prissy little entitled cretin named Obama who , as i wrote this is being pilloried for his unawareness of knowing who Cincinnatus is was or ever could be.

Was a weight loss done as much as anything for the aging but still well unkempt curvied middle aged school yard Veronica, and did i somehow insult or yet again scare her off as i revert to whisper, scare her with knowledge that in those days of Vidal replaced by a scheming and laughing more than they’d like Clinton, in eggshells and toto mundo, i paid that skeezix photographer to sell me pictures of her done in tie and Fedora like Fosse charms. And really as I admit to that burgeoning high school girl catching my eye as her ilk did hen I w as a boy to more than I, never noticed by Carl or his son and the flamenco of the Cyclops, would it even matter as in 2020 when I said it was sad to see Colbert and his ilk survive a black death that all thriven Italian girls now older who were openly raped, did not. U think about recasting the shards and the pages and the remembered recited passages of that book of the month club era book of mine about just that, a Lolita but over a woman among the cheerleaders, a Navbokian resort that upset them so, even then, as the lesbian told me, I do have a way with unrequitedness.

12 DECEMBER 2024.

At a comic book website, I won as it were a digital filed of something called batman first knight, which appears to be an attempt as again to recapture the depression era Bat-fart with his vigilante past, down to his once time parsley colored gloves and seen bat ears that were worthy of a republic serial. But at least they are trying, as the Batman of now is to me, unarguably anti dick sprang, never smiling, never joyful at being a fascists black shirt, and of course, Robin is as of yet, no where to be seen. It is slathered with Nazi shit, we all have to do this over the fact that the woke are stuck now with a disgusting bag of garbage banned Biden, who today has given us another slew of pardons from the dying Shiva of a presidency, with a judge today acquitted from gang TAFFIOCED CHIDLERN WITH OVERLY sentenced juveniles to for profit child prisons, which with a Chinese spy, who had widower pornography on him yesterday set free, it does all have an after taste of the goons echoes always attached to him and his constant need for upper management positions, I recall what bill Clinton was openly then and caught on camera about it, a born Jesuit, I guess, and once again, the myriad of drug offices and three strikes, and you're ousters that this old coot friend of Strum helped to gather up like a Satan, for the malebolias of inscrutable, and the death row inmates there, well, therein is no moratorium on any of that Rachel, put your bullhorn used at print of Guernica in mothballs, and beg to keep the company gold card for lesbians who lunch, but again, as my pop would say, the poisoned apples, divination falls even closer to the pointed trees.

Like how in the Batman comic I considered a gift of sorts the year that I did get a published account of how much I hate Conan, called #freeconan, weeks and weeks and weeks before Luigi lived out his Scorsese credo, despite how they lay it on thick about the Jews never forget as Layka awaits, like Liz Chaney a communication that like the Octavian officio, may come as it did for saint Joan, all too late, remember who this cretin was, Anita's of all stripes, and as I saw the shortsightedness of Roman Bill begging this organ donor praetor for a pardon for Hillary, a sad moment for a man who allegedly read Sallust, ah but nothing rubbed off, not like Obama halo now dipped in Madge's Palmolive, one must stalwart recall about the sanctimonious, how many Jerry and Joe Jewish teenagers creating the most important American cartoon since Mickey mouse, that they would spend their half blind mindlessness bringing sandwiches from Grossburgers, and in abject poverty, they didn't sit there schooling about future Epcot dotting the I-95 main drag swamps. There is a reason for all sanctimony, it is how tres evil pretend they have ethics and thankfully now, cross pollination betwixt and between the new Jork times and NBC is falling asunder, as after all, even the liberals cant believe in a war profiteer and its stepsisters from a rag that censors the word genocide when talking about anything bit Dachau. Ire in a abandoned theater. Buy sunbeam and resist.

13 December 2024.

In last years Xmas stuff, in a dusty old target box used to keep a string of always white and unused colored lights that were kept in a tangled string, and with a few glass ornaments that I protected as if bars of gold or Damascus steel, as they are the few Saturnalia balls of fruit that were since the boy hood days of cinema and thus irreplaceable, and all now seem to be plastic at the dollar store I haunt, I found some drawings from last year and attempt to make 360 drawings in one year of 2023. Also in there was the old copies of the torn and worn Conan omnibus bought last year at a local ish comic book store, and admired by me concentrically for its art, as its asides and intermezzos over and towards the suicidal prissy fatso Texan Howard the dick mean nothing to me, as have as have been doing since was 10, and with images out of the great John Bushema, have been usurping the overt and even somewhat vulgar and racist imagery of Hitler’s Tarzan, Conan as a spring board for my own roman heroes, Stupendously and with captaincy. I flooded through the omnibus pages, I bet that wouldn't be lost of old pulp magazine strange tales amusing stories Robert E., but still most of the art is impeccable, and looking at the book found names on what seems to be left over sulphite papers, and quickly sued fax and scan to collect these images and add them to the folder on a 1 GB card my brother bought me to quit with the whining, now where did I save that at...? Images of eyes, half made Herculean men, I save myself the constant Batman snarl of this less than ER burrows ape man, and prescience half done are galore, if not Gabor, as imagery too stolen from this time image comics, at which there is it seems an open bias against a thing as a Vulcan junior amid the superposed Episcopalians and the dark knights queers with boys wards, and the barbarian honchos of the houses of various Stan’s and his pajama game of funny pages and think, lurid inks. And gain, this is the year that I achieved Free Conan published showing at least the comics sites I may have alluded this to, that again, I say always what a lot of people are somewhere deeps own thinking.

As we are on the Italy date of Roman Saturnalia, the 25th being the day of the indomitable sun, sorry but Christi as trapped ion the world that was yesterday here something that caused the skeptical Italians to not buy into his Jewish warmed over gestalt bullshit spirituality, no matter how many times that his praetorian for hire, and I hope he was at least whipped good for playing both sides of the Apia way as I had said since I was a lad. And I am altered by my closer to newsprint brother, and his being and the paddy nightmare that is the news, or what passes for it at the bowling ball, the dead as a duck and the Cyclops that like Peachey continue to fall out of the sky like soon to bleed demigods, that in fact A BIGGER CHECK, as it mulls over what to do with paper bag Negresses who got the job at CNN because of being on the right side of a cardboard box, having to call out the viziers of legal so often theses last few week, as even Rachel now knows which side her maroon are marinade on, as ma would say, never a fan of her and her batting eyes charms as a dyke who knew her place, my mother prefers the out and out owlish nuns of the shady groves, and that in fact ABC TV, mausoleum of BABA and Harry Reasoner, a morrows boy we don't have nodding mad white paper satires of ghettos in mad, if wed even have mad, has made a plea agreeing with the incoming king Charles Martel as I called him, which echoes back to my brother, as he watched an admired Banion, and of course in admitting no crime or malfeasance, of all people, George Stuffingenevelops has to be used as a Lech’s puppet again, and though no admission of guilt, and on and on and blah blah blab, etc., et cereal et retrace, can you tell me how to get how to get to Reality street...skies are gray, pushers are stealing hay, come my way to where the air is mean...I find a few almost Fletcher Hankians human statuary, as I saw him called at some web site, which of course isn't winced at now that he has become cool, meaning that you can think this way when the middlebrows and how of calligraphists are selling yet another artists editions, that when asked, tole my sister, too much for any of this, and for a gift just buy me a bunch of old comics in the two dollar bins at new dimension comics, and whatever omnibuses of any rocket men or anything else, like Conan they couldn't give away, the net-workers have now, alas the game as Gore warned.

And the reign of error ends as it begins, as it seems that Grover's mill new jersey is under attack, and of course, Clinton hated apparatchiks like Kirby hang dog, bad news bears coach 1, is assuring us all that this is swamp gas and mass hysteria, and always willing to do the bidding of his masters, like the gangling lunkheads on fox about football, though the audience is ,-- as it is for gladiator dwindling—not one nomination for Denzel as Severus it seemed—creepy more than ever screaming ore in an abandoned ed Sullivan theater Colbert laughs at the plebs as soooooo beneath him, aren't they always, showing he has alas learned nothing from the plebeian revolt, much less Tommy Smothers. But then, I did well this last year making up for the nuclear winters of 21, and got now more words published than cartoons, a rarefy for me, and much was devoted to what bad year this was for Bidey and of course for the goons of chime-less midnight that ushered him in. Ask not for whom the stopwatch sprrrroooooingggggs, it does so for thee, and I wrote that in the spring before the untimely death of Bidey or wherever that was, or wasn't, we are still unsure.

Colbert puts down the new Jersey wops, though his old master lives there, I suppose, as chasing cogs, but even usually silent sphinx Blumenthal, has come out from under the carrerera rocks and the maggots is demanding answers over this, as Catiline, a prick in their sides to the end, calibers, cleverly, shoot them down, shoot them down, as we all think that once again, as my brother said, there was a fire sale at casa de Biden, and Zizee, as he admires, is even pulping the skin of this interregnum. Oh, what laughs weren't really heard when he put them down at the liberalized time slot of Merv, Cassius as a comedy writer, when he demeaned the wops of Jersey as usually a one the killer of that CEO, was found to be a good and wholesome Italian goon who had NOT ONE, NOT A Single INTERACTION WITH THIS CEO OR HIS ALLWOEBALE INUSRANCE COMPNAY, WHICH YOICAN HATE AS ANDERSON COOPER IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY MERCK, he had to go back to his days as a suspicion, pigeon English, egg fu young race comic he's always been, why indeed Tom Shale’s called him the end of television, how stupid are these people, he asks, and does wop singalingalinga acceptable definition, but watch what you say about drag queens and episodically Jews on the 27^th floor, that what you get for 2 out of 3 wops voting against the Cuomo hating segregationist from 1984, when he first assaulted the palace, ... he’s always been, and of course called it all drama MIA, but then I remember when he was ringing bells the night. That night, though, and Italian family was depopulated by Baden’s black death, and three generations lost in a day, but he wasn't a Soprano, but snag the baritone of Miles Glorious, as sober as a judge, and I never bought any of it, and not shocked at all he went here and there as a Mick from tar heels tobacco road, as he somehow survived what Dante called vernacular long before, as it is amusing when you call yourself a liberal, what you are allowed to say. I still await old Rosie showing up on his squatted upon set, now lets not go nuts and strike that set till we have to Polyphemus says, as I would have told you, Tich guy, don't talk about princesses in anon Disney way , evasively with NBC alas doing the work of the Windsor family, unless you’re Jay Ward and have Edward Everett Horton on the payroll, and obviously, ...don’t. don’t you love farce...? as for the onslaught of drones in jersey my brother announced How much did this corpse get from China for this dragnet of stolen informational s he was like me taught by Jesuits and you can ask Bill, a smart man needs not lie, but a stupid man does nothing but, and he said, you can call them what they like, but too early did the decrees come out, Joe, and now, no stand in for Anita hill or Dunn will ever be caught dead near you explaining anything ever again. Ask your sister, Steverino. See. ...that’s no favorite Martian, ...Its Epiphany.

15 December 2024.

It wasn’t for nothing that i had found my bought Conan collection, calling it a compendium or a Omnibus, a word that am sire would terrify the great homers of the Anglican race, Howard and Tolkien, although , in my quiver do have a like given to me by Pappy Poopdeck look like, GRR Martin, I take it one must be in fantasia an initialed god now a days, when he did give me a like, noticed by others more than me, who aid no attention , that he was indeed the writer of a song of ice and fore, as he called it, and not game of thrones, or not all game of throne, or not completely anymore game of thrones, or which ever ort whatever it was, as he gave me a like at one of these placed not only for my barely disguised Royo plagiarism, something I proceeded I’d never much do, but then, resume is now place for the sanctimonious, but add enough unlike BIDEY And OTHER HANDPICKED NOMINEES, as he did like that when asked why did the English queers of fantasy so write in their beloved dark ages and middle there of, I said, snidely, that because, that when Ariosto wrote. I take it he, Or his people, like with Stewart at times, found this funny and gave me a like that he wasn’t really giving much out to those who had already deferred him for his Anglican version of the sopranos. Then, I have a million of em to me, haughttchchchchchchhhhaaaa, and recall to my own detriment when dealing with the Newerker types that I don’t see any trigger warnings as i saw the other me TV very merry collection of Boss board game are Christmas when i as a lad and thus gravitate towards them and the dusts of old Saturnalias which have itched more than ghosts, but then now Italian can one get...?Yesm, Virginia, there was a woke ass era trigger warning over anyone watching this petticoat junction Christmas repeat, Sam Drucker a menace to society, and its full of you know, pretty Gurrlllllsss, we miss you Trumannnnnn, and your love of the swan, , unbelievably so, and there was one too, the next day when I found f troop as again alas on, as why waste the collected reels juts over some American Etruscans called injuns anyway and it was a few years back that chief of the Lakota, chief Johnny Two Smokes, did GIVE ME A PARCHCMENT OF PAPER AND REALLY SO, I WILL GET IT FRAMED, PROCLAINIMING ME ASN ACTUAL BVLOOD BROTHER APACHE, OVER MY KNOWLESDGE INHEARD EVEN AND ESPECAILLY BY BRUNEYYETS AT Rock CNETRAL RTOCK CNADY called Halle, open the pod bay doors Hallie, or Kristin in wigs or at least streaked hair. Yes in world on edge over drones, and who poke of them and their maker as a medieval armamentarium eons back, see I do know Colbert hat i am saying when say you and veracious house wops are doomed, my father alas like the brethren adored me, and left me no crystal at the artic circle, we must show how decent we are by censoring or at least decrying Larry Storch, which to me seems more trouble and sanctimony than it ever could be worth. 

The giant edition of Conan, thought lost and which started me down the rabbit hole of writing free Conan, was in some, a lot, dispraiser, and there with the sketch made from it unfinished in graphite were pages barley hankering to the spine of the book. But a lot has changed in a year as i am sure that the witches of long island, or at LEAST Martha’s vicars, were sure they had it all in the bag, but forgot with whom they were dealing and who hated him so probingly and who was only a few doors down at Chappaqua making sure that the wooden doors would at long last loves break apart and flood the praetorian with bilge and even more than just the old man and his sea of old man ammonia piss. That they didn’t understand what and whom was behind the screed roll calls of busty manias who would dot the sky as the people again are demeaned by mister clean Majotkas, what fools these plebeian be, but alas, who will believe you now, when you call these cheap fakes yet again, as bidden to me always seemed the Carney who should have been a carnival barker and gotten out of town when the idiots caught on to his ring toss scams. Who will believe the old coot now, those who ere assured that he meant it, as close as he means anything when he said he wouldn’t pardon his own son, but did, who will believe these Livy chapters of lights in the sky have nothing to do with him anymore...what and forgo the evolutionary process that kept the Piltdown man alive....? we as men erectus see [asterism and how in the jersey sky.

And little; known, but growing more and More as the recounting of rape casers from way back fall apart, Trump is triumphant, but heard the chore by the day, the man who gave us a toxic spill of one crime bill after another, always tap dancing for that great confederacy he was sho wus out dere shu enough, Belllllviddeeer come here, bohyyy, who will believe this bag of old man stink now, as he gives clemency to the judges who put children in carseration, in for profit jails, even bill who he hates and despises as the reverend Dimsdale he has always been in central casting, this bag of shit, this toxic avenger, gave a pardon to judges and to Chinese [spies, but all who had the scarlet letter, r beneath him, and faggy too, he gave cleanse to someone who sold his robes and bench for mere shekels to a prison camp for kids, and kick backs from the great killing fields of chocolate towns he hoped to crate that Colbert ahs never bother to look into. How does it feel, Booby Zimmerman to be on your own, and know this cretin as praetor when Mario Cuomo was not...? Well, two out lf ever ten voters are against him now as he can barely get a an ovation at the Kennedy centre from now broken hipped strega putanas, gummaddi Pelosi, i sense with the freezing of the turtle from bourbon land, an Alan Moore comic about to break out. Like a rolling stone. 

I thought i had kept it to myself , at least this once, as am a blabbermouth at heart, but my dismay at the broken snow globes, only one with dared Christmas mice are still here, although without water long ago vaporized, my brother sensing this, went to a dollar store he frequents and bought us a train and some stockings for the wall , which is a nice little accoutrement of sox we have never really had. Still, i found it sweet of him and placed them up and the train, larger than he had thought, but with echoes of Saturnalias before my giving in, i paled it on the stand, in front of the television, one that only shows the Office when he is not here, as he has allays had enough of cringe comedy, as we Italians, it is said, have ,much humor but no wit, as opposed to English men who have wit, barely direfully little humor. I am alerted by someone at a leftist magazine which has taken my chromes aged Saturnalia Bouffant beffaunnas that whitey queers so distaste as opposed to the priests who aired many tastes, my pets of dark hair un-allowed in more magic kingdoms, unless they are trying to openly money grab at more ethic audiences shameless and self righteously, that it seems my since fifth grade railing against Ovid of the elves, Tolkien, is now openly on Google four from the top, a salon i think page describing why now, after so many tears of pretending to be anti Nazi, that why liberals hate Tolkien now, it reads. Hell, I email back, this is stuff i said in fourth grade, having read some of what, like Shakespeare, the times of London and other essayists of the pigeon englessse said of him long ago, was in fact right here, though didn’t read enough of it to know if the liberals now knew or cared that the Etruscan word for Turk, was indeed Orc, where they got the name of their Satan, a white skinned monster with later suits of cards on his mistrosos back and of course, bald as a cue ball, angry death god who did battle with Kemeter, the blond demon who played both heaven and hell against the other, this is after all, Italian, over the fair and lovely and upswept hair Turan, as back then Venus was merely a girl godling who presided over the national crop, grapes, and the wine which came from it. The name was changed and she replaced by turned into Backus by the girl hating Spartans who came incurred into Bella Italia, as i wonder how many games those transvestites wouldn’t let the women play. 300 Spartans held back an armada, Julius dared asked,...? Either the Spartans were supermen, or, more likely, he said, The Persians did stink at warfare.

16. December 2024.

When I awoke, later than I ever thought it was, but it has been dark this festive season as old coot Biddy shows that he , like Calvino’s Manzoni, an only similarity, is at last, allergenic to dignity. The old corpse bride, had to be apparent wonderful alderman of Oz, is sending out hang dog Kirby was there to explain what fools these jersey thugs be, as they cant after so long know the difference between war drones, brought to you again from the fine folks where Keith Olbermann doesn’t work anymore, some Jewish creep made fun of him on a comedy show and thus a sportscaster reading us the news, oh where have you gone Cosell when we need tu, and thus he had to go. He is lacteally bald facade, this Mathieu experience trying to tell us all so many things that are diametrically opposed, nothing to fear but we don’t know exact who or what these are, juts go with it, ah bidden advise to the barley legal since 1970, but despite that the rainy gloom of Christmas doesn’t fit as whatever cooling and or warming that Gaea has in store for the todo mundo is alias not romantic enough in the least to give the plebeians white Saturnalia, although it was in the summer of Sumerians that Syria , bubbled into the revolutions of dolts and decay, when it started snowing in July that they knew perhaps their calendars were indeed off. So it is drak as December should always be, I guess, as I rather like the shortest days, and they help facilitate the sadness that without it Christmas is a worthless holiday of splurge.

Getting up then, my dressed to go out brother left some letters on my desk, for my attention. One was the Smithsonian which ill re-up if he wants it, I dot much care, and a reservation of injuns that I have too given to, as said before I see them as the Etruscans of a mezzo America, and do try to throw some shekels in their own ancient terra cotta pots. I, he said tome, Saw a letter from the Newerker, --a derisively term to them I am sure that he got from me, but then whose been talking about Grover’s mill new Jersey all along as he , the great Orson makes an appearance on the news I avoid that I know my brother likes to watch at the dinner hours as issued to be said when pop was here.  

They, he said, Sent you some bullshit, he said, About you being a contributor again, or a valued customer of that rag, so I tore that murtherfukker up and throw it in the trash, a bunch of cards he said, that looked like cartoons written for or about the blind…I laughed at this, but then I have heard the wittiness of those around me back since when to be an elite in the emerald city was a much harder thing to do as out Petronius then from Monroeville Alabama, neighbor of Harper, who had a curia test that a lot of the hags now wouldn’t ever pass muster. I would have liked to have at least opened it, I said, but he shock his smarter , craftier, and yet more romantic head as I recall when the monsignor said to my pop when he took me to see the old medieval building of the society of Jesus that I would come to despise, when it was as still marble inlayed before that German nun to horrors of many, ripped up much of the renaissance framework that he stole from Mellon that Mellon stole from Stalin as the man of steal then was ripped off by the gross northern barbarians he made common cause with spindly, my father thought, as turning on him didn’t last until the aches of Deer Fuehrer were cooled off in the bunker scene. No, he said, I don’t want that middlebrow shit anywhere around here, Go, he said, put Kamilla, --a lot of my epithets find their way into his own dismayed at this empire of weeds speech, as I have always been good at with the brethren,--On the cover of your rag triumphant, as she and that bag of shit from McGovern land who cant load a rifle lays it on think, and put them in a roller coaster to how triumphant they are to be. What goes up, he said, issuing a Latin phase that Virgil knew, as once again there are those shoulders that English geniuses always have rested upon.

So, unsure what exactly they wanted it couldn’t have been a, god forbid, acceptance letter though that would have been the kind of ending to the Unmaking of the President a file holding allots all of the essay of this tear, especially since the death of a road side elk as sometimes the angels write it all themselves, or the bagging of a president , or whatever that was, though admired by some, hated by many who like Kirby are living out their act to the end, I wasn’t expecting that, when he left I thought of going into the kitchen garbage to see if I knew what it was, but decided that level of subjugation wasn’t at all worth it. I did send in late at night, what I thought was an early Saturnalia essay called the wall with 13 written on it, but instead sadly, or not, I sent in the unfinished EX OFFCIO, as haven’t really finished it, been editing and spell scheming as I have gone along, still, it does bother some when some typos are missed, as I am not the kind of livable Italian they like, Albert is not the kind of prissy vicious fairy they esteem, The Office is their The rope by Plautus, if Plautus is back to being hated , although not by Hillary I was assured, STRANGE DEAR, BUT TRUE DEARRRRRR, but still if they even read it, or bother, it is a good payback to a bunch of pompous cartoonists and over fed white women and the mausoleum of Pauline Kale, as serpentine sentences so adored by the nuns, were not liked by the joyful remnants of the abortionists at Frostbite falls, now a circular firing squad as Anita Dunn, and Marks from confidence games now ancient get their licks in, as in fact that thunderbolt car came back to the ground, if not crashed off the Coney skids, as to the collected crows of that depression era Bennet Cerf monstrosity, I don’t know anyone who voted for Kammila, as that explains not only Pennsylvania, but why its Jewish Pontius today has come out to say he is aghast that corrupt judges from the crime bill days, and some who poo pooed the idea that rape was a felony, oh that is coming out now in the autopen and forensics of the stolen mantle of Augustus, there are those who cant wait for him to go away, a s we in fact waste surgeries, are the Lucretius ever not off the books, as it were...?, on mummies like Pelosi, for whom there is never a death squad into there alas is nothing but one. Send.

As Christmas approaches, a concierge of the Clinton 21 or tavern on the green that always seemed, despite or because of woke-ness always returned to being a Animal House that as an embarrassment to the Warrens and barmaids and over fed witches of long island, Variety, of all people, is reporting that ABC, the Disney channel indeed, is considering cutting ties with bill’s pimp George Stuffingenevlopes. That’s called irony. A Bummest check.

19 DECEMBER 2024.

You see, my father, unlike some, actually worked for a living, and didn’t like some radical sons, do his time and make his time cards by being at CBS by doing posioend penned teleplay diatribes against no less than the then hated Newerker gilled with mush moth circular talks according to pops, or worse yet, no less than Tennessee Williams shown as someone who was unable to give his plays the kind of rolling in the aisles guffaws that say Casers boys could give that self same Caesar, though one with a larger ego and not as intrinsically funny as the first. So, when it was made aware to me that in fact, Albert, future and even then fruity molester, sorry Kornheiser, and lovers of killers of ceos of Ecumena health consortiums, we are not rats for those secrets which are not our own. Its not, my father and race assured me, and Suetonius too, of not capote, that none of your secrets are mind to bother to keep. Therefore when I heard that as a student on scholarship, funny for a fifth grader my sister said as she called the Vatican 2 age in which the school was carried by big donors doctors lawyers and mafia chieftains, but by 1977 had become a sort of private school where the teachers and administrators of the rat infested down the avenue literally ridge avenue junior high, now a grassy knoll, its the whole village…?, sent their daughters. Ma told me she had never heard of abortion as a right, much less a sacrament until and unless the schools were desegregated , a turning point for a young Mr. Biden that he should have never been allowed to forget.

 During the third go through this month of the now waning for me in interest The Office, the later Maxwell Smarts progress through the malibolgias of the industrial park frankly was starting to weigh on me, and wasn’t as funny as I had thought it was, only days ago doing turkey leftovers. And since always could not stand Ed Helms doing an even more egregious version of his Jon Stewart brunette cadre, only the girl wasn’t a brunette , not hard to figure from the yeshiva of television, still, even started watching old Super friends , if not, here a thought, nothing and merely doing due diligence at my work table, as ran out of steam looking for a inclusion before Christmas as now take we enjoyed whether it is I sent in as a worse insult than those who out and out disliked my stuff to begin with.

An envelope came, addressed to me, and my brother thinking it was something from one of the art places I have sent my work into even by mail this holiday of the post Officio and its Miracle of 34^th street echoes, he upend it, to a sister chagrin, as she had sent me a bunch of Mad and comic books bought at some mail order place, and it as a Christmas gift, though the day of the apostolic sun, the 25^th meaning less to him than were it still a pagan holiday, its amusing what can be grafted on the word of God when in the consent press the flash recruiting drives that all marines, armies, faggits and born again must always hit their numbers, or of like Glengarry glen Ross. Now that was funny.

In the bloated and chap wrinkled envelope were some super specials from when I was a kid, some epics, heavy metallic fantasy comics, black and whites, bit mostly some old mad’s including the middle figure one, and I noticed, the inserts of the mad Wally wood comic strip were in place, including the old Madde pamphlet, all of which I had as a kid. And through the yellowing somewhat pages, some worse than others, but all seeming scant and ancient, I did see in the first flipped through relic of the age of Gore Vidal, long gone, a Mort Drucker masterpiece, complete with that masters images of Orson Welles and the pretty Paula Prentiss, the book by Heller, CATCH-ALL 22. Ah when we are all anti war, at least the nuns and us Jesuits trained, when meathead spoke of his empathy as fleeing and as mercantile as it was for the various indigenous Americans, not so much for Italians or Sicilians as shown in his bloated Princess Bride, how sad to think it,, I thought, that there was a time when meathead and then now shown gone and never returned to 8=H Buck Henry, comedy writer par excellence, weren’t so eager or willing to be the pilling guard for anyone from the Chaney crime family , who CNN NEVER around then yet, have had the never to act like we all feel badly for but then, this essay, cartoons or anything of mine is not happily brought to you by Merck, Pfizer or anything else that brings good things to blight. In the magazine even saw the Al Jaffe Jewish creed once of the planned obsolesce of things that show their very AGE, and thought, still there as a boy drawing cartoons, a refrigerator box past warranty and its prime, with two legs in stockings and heels, as if, coming out, maybe with floppy feet like a Don martin poster seen here, but will not cut along these dotted liens after so long, with a dog perchance relieving himself on the corrugated cardboard, and a mad mini poster headline reading, RACHEL MADDOW’S LAST SHOW.

As it has come to light to me in some of the kind and swell emails sent to an fro as still hold out hope more in year that I got my share of things posited and published, that I w as told as a last Jesuit libertine brother among the war hawks and the vestiges of the Chaney family, cine called openly war criminal until,, of course, the drone company used a squatter Olbermann to take over the party , please, I’ve seen that coming since he first left, I knew he was indeed the man who wouldn’t die, not yet anyway, although the Bush parrying is gone, he was a first to congratulate trump, causing all the praetorians to scatter or at least be without heft, as if like Sejanus their throats or worse their walking around money and their gold cards , and without that what is the point of American Liberalism…?, slashed in half. Now Wendy Bell, once here at WTEA in Pittsburgh, is speaking out the end of all sanctimonious, Joy Reid herself, pompous Sally of the electric company, is being called on the carpet that if she still wants a job, well, dear, you’ll take this pay cut, hunnie, and yo vill like EEET, showing a company as my fortieth told me, who as when still the house of Morgan, more than willing to do business with the future and the Duce, now there’s a name for a committee, I dare you, as they , as they still might by anywhere but the squalid hallways of MSNBC as Tallahassee Joe and daddy Berezniki if I recall Hodding correctly had their own trouble that that heinous Clan.

And I am told my a well wisher, to whom I sent the essay I meant to , The wall with the number 13 on it, a wall I assured the immaculately pretty Wendy F., as saw her in an Integra post she displayed herself in a peek-a-boo style I’m sure that the Dar and the war lobos would see as shocking, they hate sexuality you know, especially the Italianate sort, the nuns assured me and I would see myself with the German Gertrude, she should find self as a prefect setting. A woman more liberal than not, said, finding in me a Franciscan sort of empathy unseen by those who wont stop eating through their rants and their vaginal warts, --this juts in, ABC legal is demanding an apology after the signed plea agreements went through, from Whoopee, who to be fair can always act like she never heard of or much less read the color purple when her Jewish masters, speaking of which, said she was a bigot for recalling the chidden of Hamm in anyway--that she had heard, and why use better journalistic ethics than the New York Times, its now out there and making the rounds, that Rachel Dear when told she was either fired or taking a cut, she credo like a little lesbian at the Boss era carpeted offices, there before the glass and brass and tickey tacky African Kitche as shown by some, an Etruscan urn by chance perhaps, though they have never been as cool as pretending that a Jewish CFO or ABC vice president in charge of blather can preen they are a Zulu, ALTHOUGH, WHO KNOWS THAT THE WOPS IN THE CELLER OF THE Uffizi are selling out today, that can be trafficked in as a the cops and the sanctimony never send Interpol to all that art not stolen from Jews, but stolen by Gi’s who brought half of the largess of mothers Italia and Japan and chain back home to their baby booming empire, and which isn’t much spoken of anymore.

I was told and heard I guess two simultaneous rumors are at least the new journalism or what passes for it now, that she literally, no not the alligator tears of on cue beat the clock type NBC daily Tomorrows shows, she literally cried warmer tears then glycerin , when she was given the ultimatum as she was that shed be gone unless she took a pay cit. I thought of the boyishly pretty as I described her lesbians hostess this Dagmar or the peacock network, and how she gave an enveloped of money to my Jesuit lawyer hero, Virgil Girth, leaving the written for Broadway baby Diana Lockheed, Christine Baranasky, who as her lawyer in the lurch, as she was again , out for blood or at least light bulbs. But alas as I felt my heart sink knowing this brunette had to be given this ultimatum and then took it so, and didn’t find in real life a Jesuits lawyer who told the dons of the Mutual broadcasting Company, Phil and his nephew Petey, based on Conservative icon Steve Banion and as the feckless nephew, Ed Helms, Muldoon is mentioned, no, I was alerted maybe csue of what I write of this in THE WALL, that in fact, this woman was not shocked not awed that when push came to shove, instead of acting the party of Calabria Camilla, and racing on the waters to eventually hurl Dionysus arrows at the tanks of Aeneas, now a inhuman superego in a metamorphosis that would always cause Virgil to be hated by the German war lovers like Tolkien, and I made sure since a boy I told them all that in fact their English Ovid, he had an honest hatred for Roman and Italia unhealthy in a writer of any sort ,a s his eventual frenimey CS would say, that it is not far from my distaste for him and his gnomes and his elves that in fact, Doctor Menge--Tolkine was indeed a German. You’d think that woodlot matter, ah but as I have said since I was a boy the Shire is always been part of a greater Germania, . But I noticed as a boy…it certainly did. We now take you live, to even though we have been told that there is a barbaric nature in siding with the wop killer again, ah this time he killed somebody that they didn’t think of as funny and the Scorsese opera went awry, though ere it not to be such a cause celebra , especially after we have know knowledge that on his shit list was the ceos of Goldman sack and wait for it…GENEREAL ELECTRIC, perhaps the propaganda divisions…?, not only was a cause clebere made if it, but it also had enough Jesus permeations to it, with ate house ni88ers of the New Jack city in freefall around as Pontius in the gallery, well, who on earth thought this as good idea, although the stragglers and malcontents as usually were of a smaller number as certainly no one was going to get a cab fair and box lunch for anything this explosive to the curia. We now take you live to fatso Rosie O’Donnell, still seething with anger that Trump dared not buy her queen of nice shtick, she became Germaine Greer the second that CBS took away her wigs, as that bloated cow growls at us all, and revels she indeed has caught vaginal warts. AS Boccaccio said, All of these stories are true. Ribald classics.

21 DECEMBER 2024.

Its the first night of a coldest winter than its been in a while. So much for a tepid acceptance of global warning by an accidental president and lip service to climate change, maybe the soot for perennial wars had something to do with that up tick in Celsius that strangely the white loving Biden has glommed onto, but I do believe as have known of Bide as a truly despicable and evil and tawdry little man, he seems to love out his decree as the snow miser to his own less than affable Dick Shawn endings of the farce.

My brother comes in to my office space during the day, living room at night of CBS old reruns, to tell me that his own cherry little enfaces newsletter that he reads only because he knows that those who place their money on the barrel want as an unvarnished as a news ticker as any, and why on earth would he ever read the collected slop of the new York times which seems, he thinks to spend more time trying to convince themselves of their shit more so than they care to do to anyone else. It appears as why I have kept this essay as open ended as I have, tired of transposing any signs of that wop killer who was caught the same day that for a life of service FF Copolla was given a legion of merit from a man who is basically a pimp on ill fitting burial shroud, who had called Mario Cuomo as slandered as much as anyone thanks to he and martins lives works, that there was something else in the air causing me to send out as much as I could this month of Saturn’s feast, and again it had nothing to do with any careening house wop who reverted back to his Sicilian racialism despite his family having been living in the lap of luxury showing again perhaps the sneering by Mario Cuomo was right and that one can take the dago out of Messina but alas…and I was certain that he was to tell me that again other sports outlets and three lettered conscripts were out to get Gödel for his up coming spasm of football, thanksgiving never enough, the Cowboys are at easy feh this holiday season and even giants news appears like the post have had enough to the forced gaiety and the guffawing of house Negros like Steven A, whose bating jackass qualities are getting it seems on all nerves all around. But no, my brother alerted me that the WSJ was and soon to be followed by the delusions’ Notes of the new York times, that thy are now aghast and horrified to know that indeed , failure is indeed an old man orphan, and in fact, the white house itself knew of and conceded to the lack of cognitive ability that Bidden has been showing on and off since , at least to me, he was allowing Oliver North to wear dress grays as a costume, and position the cameras to look more like David back in the days of Carson. No, now it appears that the partita knew indeed and in fact that he was a roman turtle, that is , as I said way back, a carcass in mid death, or bleeding to die, who was torn from his cape and swords, this isn’t some movie of English fagots, and who was used as a roman shield against barbarian rage, and had his accoutrements of battle ripped from his bleeding out flesh and left to die as friendly fire all for the patria. He was indeed, my bother assures me, a figurehead as I had guessed at, I, a school boy who read Julianus Capitolinus as a ten year old for a conformation, or at least a law degree that never came, and now he lied on the Cambrian forest floor, dying out, no mas, a bubbling, sobbing idiot who fell upwards too far, frozen by the light of the minreval moon and with wings of ice, not melted, came crashing to earth even more rapidly, like Icarus, or the Bullwinkle I thankfully found this year.

Now, he said, Now they are aghast, --he like I hate when idiots rose up this high, why he told me to post #repealandrepalcecolobert, and true to my brothers cleverness and radar, he knew that this creepy cvnt smirking twerp had some kind of deal with the then and not for long triumphant tech, and soon as I write that was hurled off instragram of maybe it was twitter or maybe even tumbler, but whatever it was , I never went back to one of them as thought again, who the hell need this, or for that matter you…? He wont read the new York times, and keeps recalling to me that Pinchy the Jewish macher who owns the old hag, well, his grandfather took ads for bought and sold darkie slaves that even post set the ill save none of them emancipation by Lincoln, and genuflect when you say that pal. And now, he said, They find out that this was a confidences job, a sting, he said, Now we have to believe that this was all news to you, and again sparer than not, when he heard that it was 75 thousand words, and they had done an in cold blood, but with notes, sprawl on interviews with 50 ladies 50 white house pastries chefs aren’t they all in the end…?, he knew despite the new found scansion of a rag that as he said, had Miss Tits, Peggy Noonan once vouching for Biden as no one hated him like they hated the Clintons, what is a little segregation among democrats of a certain age, my father would attest, noting, and now, he was adamant, now they have discovered they were fooled again all along. How convincer of them all, he said, but again, with the admirations and angers of monsignors who warned my pop not to allow me to become too much like his “disrespectful” other son, I did feel a layer of dirtiness to this, knowing that old wicthiepoo and Marius weren’t indeed done yet. But, when I asked if he’d want to but the next story coming from the vaunted Times, a first draft of history that belongs like many a first draft torn up, Let them, he said, sell their Bulgari xmas ads to someone else. Tell them to tell Bilbo, he said, his name for a creep after all he was right about as he read roman lives Marius when he was a Vatican 2 kid, and he doesn’t like me even broaching the subject as it were, Tell them to tell Bilbo to buy a bobble for his fronting dyke wife, tell him Bulgari is open Christmas eve, in case he needs another gift to assuage wifely that he wasn’t ogling of Keri Lake at all. Meet me at the grotto, Doll.

He also assured me pre law too, when it was actually in Latin, That there can be no nolo contrre agreements, as doctor death, Kermit the wop Antoine Fauceee SHOULD KNOW BY NOW AFTER A LIFE TIME OF REMOVING BULLETS FROM MEN IN CELLERS, that when a plea agreement , not a pardon, is given, these are not pardons he assures me, one must be indicted of a crime, and must allocquate to all crimes committed, and whatever it is that that cow Chaney wants from people who called her and her father war criminals only weeks ago, it seems, and who may have ruined their chance at clemency by ending caught dead once too often on stage, and now a pre holiday murmuring about a revamp to the 25 amendment, as the pardons didn’t come out of the claw machine, but then his carnival act has been crooked since he came up from Williamson and the at doges therein. Believe it or not, but, calling Delaware a tax doge disguised as a state got a like once from no less than Keith Olbermann, just like how when I said, when heard that in the midst of war Gödel now at the end of a golden rope that is fraying, charged the did for fifty foot American flags as Cowboys games, whereas thought the Virgilian patriotism was just a given. But then who called gladiatorial shows at all Virgil….?

It is being said now that my distaste for Coppola was shared by fellow Italian , the first lady, who demeaned that he’d not be given that award, who need him around, co-axially as she and junior have been called a crime family a while now, and she damned CBS, I am assured, that that aging dimwit with delusions of being Leoncavallo, that he’d be kept as far from the eye that would show Byden for a sleazy presidium's, low rent Kennedy center gala that he eschewed being at the reopening of Noter Dame for.

When they reposed Notre Dame cathedral this year, though I was horrified to know that it didn’t even have a goddamn football team. My brother hears at Christmas my playing of Peter Paul and Mary and their sad Chaucer era ish hymnal to the poor and the weak that beg the over fed landed gentry for some Christmas cheer and cherry cake and plum pies, and my brother a true jurist liberal that would never whisper and call the nag man from 1975 an ffing warmonger under his breath last he lose his place as a smiling hag on an armamentarium stage on a pile of old refrigerators and drones, which have alas been grounded in Grover’s mill, NJ as if one wants to know what is true to old man Biddy, as Gore Vidal , our boyhood hero said, one need only wait till he is done talking and then they know it’s the exact opposite of what he just said. One must know as the Jesuits said a smart man, like say Roman Bill, although like Rosie, and Trump, my brother did never did much believe his horse manure, a smart man needn’t lie and a dimwit as I think I recall my father calling Bidey boo way back when, can do nothing else at all. My brother loves when the Latkas and the Chaney’s of the world , at this time of pardoning for on the take judges and child molesters from the forbidden city, a DNC operative was found being a spy for Zizi, he said to me, which shows how the new Mao is to be admired, and yet, the curia becomes more concerned that the piñata has been replaced by a dead horse from the national lampoon satire of a then already past its prime Mad. He loves it all so when the powerful as they always end up doing in the books that we had to read and a decline and fall of the Roman empire being under my brothers arm so bothered the old German nun who called me at first a credit to my Hesperia race and then out and out a garbage can like all Italians ended up as, my brother, who did battles I never much cared to start, he loves when the frauds with purple ties, a combination of red and blue I impressed the brethren with my take that the demarcation of states between the two boxing colors was the end of the republic, he loves when indeed the poor and the weak are shown what begging and needing readily is when the powerful need yet again, something else. Where are the pardons…hell we’ve seen more lies about the drones and their midnight streaks.

So, as good a time to end this as any, this longer protected essay which was no palimpsest as much s a Italian bricklayer all, the sort that I was alerted could not somehow be made by the crucial editors and censors I met and dealt with before any, as it was after all ,my sketches, Mrs Clinton lights the Saturnalia tree which as somehow sent to the central officiate by Tina Fey always open to new talents less fretful than she, like Bidey boo, that was corrected as verboten before her then hero Hillary had lost a first time, and before she had to pretend she was with Him, a coot segregationist, all along.

I therefore took some time off and we all watched the football as bread and circus, amusing how many liberals decry that when jewey Sshumuer tosses out the cakes, not as much this year though,,,, is as much as anything a thing that they revel in on this plebeian holiday, as the nun tole me , in America, even the faggots are puritans and all is dichotomy. If there was going to be a spasm of blood sport for the feast of Satrurnus, they hemorrhage Viking sanctimony and barbarian rages, so be it, though as with Bidey, even the Neo-fascist rag paper the WSJ seems apparently aghast at this lamented cash grab as suddenly the cheap fakes of the Pretoria wore down, and the basic tenets of lying by idiots, taken by a token stand in against and for Anita Hill warned us all of turned out to be in fact the low level pf non Jesuits that the slaves of empire, they always are. I hope somewhere Lucius Sejanus is laughing at what fools these hatchet men be, as they turn tither and yon for a shelter from the frozen rain, if his shade like something out of Dante's inferno can laugh with as it was , his throat cut by the wayward Tiberius. On Saturday we watched and enjoyed the blowhard Pittsburgh Steelers, as i never watch i was alerted on my time line by a well wisher that indeed my insult to them as Stealers was in fact sued by that dyke drag queen Colbert, to which i waved it off and merely said back, now with twitter or whatever it is that my brother demanded i hurl insults at, anyone can think themselves Jack Paar. We watched as a reeling team of one flew over the coo-coos zone, and a black Landry, the anniversary of his getting the chancing job at Dallas though his Giants brethren he even said as much, Lombardi as a better coach, but love Landry anyway, a ball of steaming hot platitudes and niggardly assertions all memorialize for any occasion shew nuf, whose has spent the month of Saturnalia his close up for hard knocks more than draw a game plan wayward passe when Landry got the job. It turns out all the rest in indeed is, Vince, Mythology. They were bamboozled and twisted upon by King Henry, who nattered to be in Dallas, but old man Jones was a cowdry old soul and had to make Dak pay through his negro nose, this Zulu smashing them for almost 200 yards as again shrieking Conan was alas as at marvel, no where to be seen. Did I mentioned this was the year that I got Free Conan Published, although had though it had nothing to do with political pantomime, a white robed vestal playmate, i just am altered, was refused after once accepted and i was told to both to retake the picture of her for higher resolve, showing the caliber of people my brother tells me not to deal with as Bennett Cerf, he dead, and taint coming back.

I was going to wrap some gifts, as never wrap them when they come, and in fact have taken to as my brother taught me to, wrap the whole package, amazon box and all even a white envelope if such comes, as its easier nit neater to, and was about to do that. The day was a Sunday Saturnalia, yes I use the word correctly Mich Dowdy, but then when have the sportscaster ever had to…?, and though the Cowboys were eliminated, funny it took this long, despite the laughter of a rambling Fox were out seems no one need be forced no matter what in our less than woke time, no matter what their ethics or take of not rolling ones eyes at the aircraft carrier is. The Philadelphia Beagles lost and gloriously so, to the also ran Redskins, sorry, stat Boy, don’t have to read much less heed the memo, as the ghost of Christmases past Kenny Pickett stumbled and bumbled and fumbled relatively his way to a loss burnishing a black QB’s stats that doesn't even need the Gödel central office doing pulling guard duty and shoving him down our imperial flavian amphitheater throats. Then, the dread 49’s, its been long way since Joe Cool, lost too, with Huck Finn towing a pick six in the end, showing that that glass cleat, or maybe his raft to Eldorado, is about to break open. Midnight in the garden of Haite and Asbury. There is still some murmuring though, that Catch -25 WILL HAPPEN this icy days, and that a first woman pretender Praetor, will made just long enough so that the democrats have to give a papal dispensation to Doctor Facci, and Peppermint patty Chaney, two chanticleers out of an unfinished opera left on some shelf somewhere that a Manzoni has never found.

And then, at night, somehow despite the snide remarks and wise guy asides that is our Lingual franca, I turned the TV away from the onrushing Kennedy center awards, for the first time ever giving a ribbon to a building , the Apollo theater and to house wop emeritus, not emerita as the suddenly awakened Nancy demanded, after all, woke is sooooo barbaric , no…?, FF Coppola, kept away from crime family sensitive gummaddi Jillda, before even saw the ghostly visage of old coot Tiber, old corpse Bidey, as it is said now even the sight of the man with lower ratings than Carter had, they cant wait for him to go, as eventually, he has to somehow tell you, its all true, as he always must. After a passel of lies, of course. Whatever happens make it worse…by vaccine. I turned it somehow to the lats prime time Cowboy game that was flexed in despite the sneering of the epsn-y-fication of American everything thanks to piss bucket poor man Cosell Olbremann. But funny this time, without the haphazard and seamy decay and meth sweats of Dak, a journeyman QB and a rag tag army seems unwilling to sleep walks its last prime time slot away as it seems they had before, and that fact they were even on showed much about where the rations for The Shield's rockem sockem robots have sunk, as it is tiring to see a slightly shadier version Brady be given games at the end, for a Walrus coach who frankly, was never that good to begin with. The Midnight Cowboys suddenly recalling an staging Roman virtue on this cold and blustery night, they ran through walls, even CEEDEE catching passes once lost on the sin that the artifacts of Jones mausoleum never thought, or cared to keep away from the stetting sun , not like they played that many games at dusk now. But he showed every bit of his worn and his power he allegedly had, why that number graced his chest like a talisman, had, the umpires taking away a touch down though eh previously went across the white line, the blue field not mattering here, but then, this allowed beleaguered coach who cant live off his one Superbowl as Tomlin so agreeably does his affirmative action-ed own, and of all people Zeke , now a relic of the closest thing to Earl Campbell he once was cam barreling in for old times sake. And smart ass needle nosed bungle number one, NBC INCARNATE AND SMNIRK, Collingswood, ir whatever, the father of this sort of broadcasting , was amazingly left silent for once as the faithful and the white clad blues came close to those last pages of Gibbon, areant we all…?, as he and that high yellow carnival barker were left almost speechless, mot like a one handed grab by someone who outlived his usefulness at the also crumbling deliciously Giants, as he said said a simple yeah when the Cowboys, it was asked, as i silently thought to myself, that maybe they are sending a message to their faithful, --perhaps to Steven A and Tony Bruno and Keith Olbermann too--and mostly, he said, they send a message to Jerry Jones. Seeing this, I watched no more of it, a perfect high point, committed by Ezekiel, misused and abused as we all were, a last hurrah, that a l reel from a literal a dead head sticker on an imperial Cadillac and a literal smattering of praetorian applause, could never even touch.