THE INFORMATION #948 JULY 7,2017

THE INFORMATION #948
JULY 7, 2017
Copyright 2017 FRANCIS DIMENNO
francisdimenno@yahoo.com
https://dimenno.wordpress.com 


To become a singer requires work, work, and again, work! It need not be in any special corner of the earth; there is no one spot that will do more for you than other places. It doesn’t matter so much where you are if you have intelligence and a good ear.–Caruso

WHEN THIS WORLD CATCHES FIRE 
BOOK THREE: SAVAGE NOXTOWN 
CHAPTER ELEVEN: PART THIRTY-ONE: DAYS OF WRATH

The early summer rains were finally gone, and, with the mercilessly pounding sun throughout the long afternoons there also came new excuses for the menfolk of Blowtown to gather in their favorite low dive. But Count Victor Justin and Cadger Tandy continued their perambulations, venturing farther afield out of Blowtown and into Noxtown proper and straying down to the boardwalk, and the docks beside the Salt River. The Count brought along a flask of what he called tanglefoot whiskey, but Cadger Tandy did not indulge beyond a solitary sip, for he as yet had developed very little tolerance for either the taste or the effects of rotgut.
 
“Did I ever tell you, Yob,” said Count Victor Justin, “About the time I rescued the great Caruso from the toils of extortionists?”
 
“Crusoe? Crusoe who? Robinson Crusoe?”
 
“No no no! Enrico Caruso!”
 
“Who’s that?” 
 
“Is it possible that you do not recognize the name of the greatest tenor in the world?”
 
“What’s a ‘tenner’?”
 
As it turns out, Tandy was pulling the Count’s leg, and the Count, in acknowledging that he recognized his attempt at con artistry, smacked him fondly on the side of the head and called him a Mamaluke.
 
“Caruso, the great Opera singer, was on an engagement to sing Pagliacci, I believe, and was receiving threatening notes from an organization that called itself ‘The Black Hand Company of Death.’ Well, it just so happens that at that time I was a great admirer of his, and we had gotten acquainted on an ocean cruise years earlier. He had a curious way of expressing himself. His English was not so good–it was rather stagy, as a matter of fact. He was given to saying things like “I laugh, Ho Ho, at seasickness.’ Then the boat would rock, and he would promptly puke over the side. 
 
“So anyway,  Caruso somehow got ahold of me–Lord knows how–and invited me to lunch. Said he had a proposition to discuss with me. Well, that was a bluff. What he wanted to talk about was ‘la mano nero compagnia della morte’. For all his worries, however, he still had a good appetite–prodigious, as a matter of fact. Lately, he had taken to always carrying around a sword cane, as though he was convinced that a mere gew-gaw of that sort would protect him against assassins. ‘Think you I fear at these threats?’ And his eyes would open wide. ‘Ho ho! I will cut them all down like flies!’ he would proclaim, as he poked his cane around at his nonexistent antagonists like some sort of pudgy swashbuckler. Maybe he thought he was auditioning for the role of the Prisoner of Zenda, who knows?
 
“Anyway, I told him, in so many words, that he was a fool if he thought that he could tackle that bunch of cut-throats without help. And I told him that I was such a great admirer of his that I would attempt to catch the culprits, and turn them over to the law. Of course, I had no intention of doing any such thing. What I mean to say is that though friendship may be eternal, the chance to make a good score trumps even the eternal, by the neddy jingo.
 
“So I agreed to act as Caruso’s go-between as, per the extortion letter,  he stuffed an envelope with two thousand dollars, consisting of twenty  crisp hundred dollar bills. But instead of meeting the black hand thugs, I simply went to the local padrone and told him the situation, and he straightened it out with the guys from the so-called Black Hand, who weren’t from the Company of Death at all. They were just two young guys who had gotten in over their heads at faro and owed a debt to an impatient loan shark. The Padrone suggested to the men that they go after a victim other than the great Caruso.  He suggested to the loan shark that he give the two men a little more time. Andh suggested to me that I give him a thousand bucks, as his ‘fee,’ which I did, and gladly, even though I usually hate having to divvy up a score. So I pocketed a thousand ducats, unbeknownest to all and sundry except the Padrone, and Caruso was happy,  because at that time he could earn two thousand dollars for one or two nights of work. And also because he figured that since he had made the pay-off, all his problems were a thing of the past. 
 
“Unfortunately the boys in the press got wind of the fact that Caruso had paid off some blackmailers. They got the story all wrong, of course, just like they always do, but unfortunately for Caruso, once word got out to the public about the caper, Caruso soon had a stack of ‘black hand’ letters that was growing up to his chin. I didn’t have anything against Caruso–like I said, I was a great admirer of his, so I urged him to go to the police, even though the threatening letters told him not to. ‘That I cannot do,’ said he, ‘for I would look like a coward.’ I told him he was a fool if he paid any more ransom to those birds, because they wouldn’t stop but would continue on ’til they had sucked him dry. He wouldn’t believe me, so finally I went to the police myself. There was this Italian copper who seemed pretty square, and so I had one of my sarcastic Dago friends go up to him and put a bug in his ear about how La Mano Nero was putting the squeeze on Caruso.  
 
As for the matter of Caruso’s pride, all I had to do was tell him that if he DIDn’t tell the police, it would look as though he were afraid of the blackmailers. Thank God, that story somehow made sense to him, and that was the line he took. ‘I tell the police,’ says he, ‘to show the world I am not afraid.’
 
“But from that time forward, Caruso hardly ever went anywhere without a couple of huskies who walked behind him to watch his back. 
 
“It took me a lot of pulling of strings, but I finally settled Caruso’s problems. And made me a thousand smackers in the bargain. And that ain’t hay! That moolah done kept me in coffee and cake for well over a year!”
1*SALUTATION
The Dukes of Stratosphear 
BIKE RIDE TO THE MOON
Demo:
ALSO SEE:
TREMELOES
HERE COMES MY BABY
2*REFERENCE
LEARNING FROM LYRICS 
4*NOVELTY 
SONNY SHARROCK 
BLACK WOMAN 
 
ALSO SEE: 
ZOOT HORN ROLLO 
WE SAW A BOZO UNDER THE SEA 
5*AVATAR OF THE ZEITGEIST

THE WORST SONG IN THE WORLD
JUGHEAD AND SON
“SUGAR SUGAR”

6* DAILY UTILITY
WEIRD RETRO
7*CARTOON
THE WILD, WILD WEST (TELEVISION SHOW): ANIMATED INTRO

Clowning and travesty are very often the signs of a genre crumbling into baroque decay. The Wild Wild West took the Western angle and spoofed it up with spy gadgets in a lackluster and mostly insipidly risque fashion for the putative amusement of tots and morons. (Though as a child I used to love it when the lady’s skirt was exposed in the animated intro.)

8*PRESCRIPTION
NONPAREILS

Why do they call them ‘nonpareils’?
They’re actually pretty mediocre.
As for me, I don’t eat Jimmies.
They’re too lowbrow.
I only eat ‘Jameses’.

https://www.oldtimecandy.com/walk-the-candy-aisle/nonpareils

THE BLOODY LEGACY OF PRE-CODE CRIME
www.crimeboss.com/history02-1.html

TWISTED COMIC BOOKS                                                                                                                                                        www.printmag.com/interviews/twisted-comic-books/
10* LAGNIAPPE
MARTY ROBBINS

AIN’T I RIGHT(1966)

You came down to this southern town last summer
To show the folks a brand new way of life
But all you’ve shown the folks around here is trouble
And you’ve only added misery to their strife
Your concern is not to help the people
And I’ll say again, though it’s been often said
Your concern is just to bring discomfort, my friend
And your policy is just a little red

Now, ain’t I right (ain’t he right)
(ain’t he right)

It matters not to you how people suffer
And should they, you’d consider that a gain
You bring a lot of trouble to the town and then you leave
That’s part of your Communistic game
I detect a little Communisim
I can see it in the things ya do
Communisim, socialism call it what you like
There’s very little difference in the two

Now, ain’t I right (ain’t he right)
(ain’t he right)

Your followers sometimes have been a bearded, hatless bunch
There’s even been a minister or two
A priest, a nun, a rabbi and an educated man
Have listened and been taken in by you
Aw, the country’s full of two-faced politicians
Who encourage you with words that go like this
Burn your draft card if you like, it’s good to disagree
That’s a get acquainted Communistic kiss

Now, ain’t I right (ain’t he right)
(ain’t he right)

One politician said it would be nice to send some blood
And help the enemy in Vietnam
That’s what he says, here’s what I say
Let’s just keep the blood
Instead let’s send that politician man
Let’s rid the country of the politicians,
Who call us tramps, that march out in our streets
Protesting those who wanna fight for freedom, my friend
This kind of leader makes our country weak

Now, ain’t I right (ain’t he right)
(ain’t he right)

Let’s look and find the strong and able leaders
It’s time we found just how our neighbors stand
If we’re to win this war with Communism
Let’s fight it here as well as Vietnam
Let’s rise as one and meet our obligations
So Communistic boots will never trod
Across the fields of freedom that were given to us
With the blessing of our great almighty God
Across the fields of freedom that were given to us
With the blessing of our great almighty God

11* DEVIATIONS FROM THE PREPARED TEXT: A REVIEW OF OTHER MEDIA
MITT ROMNEY: A RETROSPECTIVE

Obama wasn’t perfect, but he was Mr. Personality incarnate when compared to that Dud Vader the Republicans coughed up like an Aqua Velva scented hairball. Mitt certainly doesn’t pass the President You Would Most Like to Have a Beer With. Maybe a cup of hot steaming Postum, but even then I doubt it.

Because let’s face it–Romney was a real stiff. His pappy was a tongue-tied oaf, and he was a real lame-o himself; a take-my-picture prop cut-out of his Paw with all the charisma of a cardboard box. His rap about running the government like a business is a real boodle of bad jive–a certified groaner–strictly from hunger–the Republican version of a slick package, and by “slick” I mean that he was basically whistling the same tune as good old Bob Taft back in 1952– Taft, bopping and jiving to the Melachrino strings and calling for giving America back to its real owners, string-tied, beaver-hatted fat-cats from the Southland who play penny poker with oil wells and spend their lazy summer nights rocking on the old plantation porch, smoking cheroots, sipping mint juleps, and damning deficit spending as a Communist plot.

Had Mr. Romney been elected we might well have been saddled with our worst President since Harding–only perhaps this is unfair to Harding, since Mitt is way too uptight and rigid to be even one per cent as likeable in a slob sort of way as the unfortunate and overwhelmed Martyr President (who, allegedly, perished from eating spoiled Alaskan King Crab Salad). The 2012 Republican nominee (and has there ever been a potential President since the long-dead days of Schulyer Colfax and Horace Greeley with a stranger name than Mitt Romney?) seemed, not only insulated from normal American concerns, but also strangely ill-at-ease with arguably human concerns, and he even seemed utterly incapable of paying so much as lip-service to such generally-accepted conventions as Compassion for the Poor, Kindness to Dumb Animals, Equality in the Workplace, and any of a number of other modern-era homo sapien-like attributes. His playbook seemed strictly from the 90’s–the 1790s. To make matters worse, his affect seemed deeply deeply off. He made Nixon come across like the lusty and profane stogie-chomping sailor he longed to be; made H. Ross Perot look like a hip, finger-popping Mack Daddy, and Al Gore come off as sophisticated a bon vivant as Noel Coward in his prime. But let’s at least say this much for Mitt–he was endlessly entertaining, like a holographic diorama of a perpetual trainwreck; his jeer-worthy campaign made him the priceless fodder of political jokemongers thoughout this great land of ours. Thankfully, for the future of the Republic, he was as gaffe-prone as his hapless Paw, Michigan Governor George W. “Brainwashed” Romney. As a matter of fact, he was a walking gaffe. Mitt will remain for a long time to come the gold standard for every other hopelessly isolated and insolent plutocrat with an unjustifiably inflated ego cojoined with an irrational, nearly messianic hankering for the highest office. To paraphrase Jack Warner: “No, no–MCCAIN for President; ROMNEY for POPE!”

 
*11A BOOKS READ AND REVIEWED
1001 SMARTEST THINGS EVER SAID. PRICE, ED. ****
2 SISTERS. KINDT. ****
3 STORY. KINDT. ***1/2
AFAR. DEL DUCA & SEATON. ***1/2
ALEC. CAMPBELL. ****
ALL & SUNDRY. HORNSCHEMEIR. ***1/2
ALL-STAR BATMAN 1. MY OWN WORST ENEMY. ***1/2
ARCHIE 3. ***1/2
THE A-Z ENCYCLOPEDIA OF SERIAL KILLERS. SCHECHTER. ***
BAD PRESS. WARD. ***1/2
BARBED QUOTES. ***1/2
BATMAN: LEGACY 1. ***1/2 
BATMAN ARKHAM: MR. FREEZE. ***1/2
BATMAN/SUPERMAN 6. UNIVERSE’S FINEST. ****
BATMAN/TWO FACE: FACE THE FACE. ***1/2
BITCH PLANET 2. ****
BLOODSHOT 4. ***1/2
CALIFORNIA DREAMIN’. BAGIEU. ****
CITIZEN HOBO. DEPASTINO. ****1/2
CITY OF DREAMS. ANBINDER. ****1/2
CONSPIRACY THEORY IN AMERICA. DE HAVEN-SMITH. ****1/2
DEADPOOL: TOO SOON? **1/2
DEATHSTROKE 1. THE PROFESSIONAL. ***1/2
DEPT. H 1: PRESSURE. KINDT. ***1/2
DERANGED. SCHECHTER. ****
DIVINITY 1. KINDT. ****
DRINKING IN AMERICA. CHEEVER. ****
EVERYTHING IS FLAMMABLE. BELL. ****
FLINTSTONES 1. ****
THE GRAPHIC CANON 3. KICK, ED. ****1/2
GREEN ARROW 2. ISLAND OF SCARS. ***1/2
HARLEY QUINN 1. DIE LAUGHING. ***1/2
HELLBOY. INTO THE SILENT SEA. ****
IMAGINE WANTING ONLY THIS. RADTKE. ****
INJUSTICE: GODS AMONG US YEAR FIVE VOL. 2. ****
JSA: THE GOLDEN AGE. ***1/2
JUSTICE LEAGUE OF AMERICA THE SILVER AGE VOL. 3. ***
THE LAST GOOD HEIST. WHITE, ET. AL. ****
LAST THINGS. MOSS. ****1/2
LUNARBABOON: THE DAILY LIFE OF PARENTHOOD. GRADY. ***
MIND MGMT 1-6. KINDT. ****1/2
MY LIFE IN A JUGULAR VEIN. SNAKEPIT. ***1/2
NIXON’S DARKEST SECRETS. FULSOM. ***1/2
PROVIDENCE ACT 1. MOORE. ****1/2
PSYCHO U.S.A. SCHECHTER. ****
RED HANDED. KINDT. ***1/2
REVOLVER. KINDT. ****
RISE OF THE DUNGEON MASTER. KUSHNER & SHADINI. ***1/2
SAVAGE PASTIMES. SCHECHTER. ***1/2
THE SNAKEPIT BOOK. ***1/2
SNAKEPIT 2008. ***1/2
SNOW BLIND. WESTERFIELD. ***1/2
SOUPY LEAVES HOME. CASTELLUCCI & PIMIENTA. ***1/2
SPIDER-MAN: MILES MORALES 2. ***1/2
SPILL ZONE 1. WESTERFIELD. ***1/2
STEVE ROGERS CAPTAIN AMERICA 2. THE TRIAL OF MARIA HILL. **** 
STICKS ANGELICA, FOLK HERO. DEFORGE. ***1/2
THE STEAL. SHTEIR. ****
SUPER SPY. KINDT. ****
SUPERGIRL 1. REIGN OF THE CYBORG SUPERMEN. ***1/2
SUPERMAN 2: TRIALS OF THE SUPER-SON. ***1/2
TALES FROM THE DARKSIDE. HILL & RODRIGUEZ. ***
TEEN TITANS 4. WHEN TITANS FALL. ***1/2
THE UNBELIEVABLE GWENPOOL 2. **1/2
WAITING PERIOD. SELBY. ****
WE STAND ON GUARD. VAUGHN. ****
THE WILLOW TREE. SELBY. ***1/2
ZONZO. CORNELLA. ****
12* CONTROVERSIES IN POPULAR CULTURE
Artist: Notorious B.I.G.
Album: Ready to Die
Song: One more chance (remix)
TRANSLATION
As a general rule, I perform deviant sexual acts with women of all kinds, including but not limited to those with limited intellect, nude magazine models, and prostitutes. I particularly enjoy sexual encounters with the latter group as they are generally disappointed in the fact that they only receive penile intercourse and nothing more, unless of course, they douche on a consistent basis. Although I am extremely unattractive, I am able to engage in these types of sexual acts with some regularity. Perhaps my sexuality is somehow related to my fancy and expensive jewelry.I enjoy playing my music loudly on my car stereo. Apparently, women enjoy this also because they become sexually aroused when they see me driving. Oddly enough, when I visit the Native American reservations, some of the more sexually promiscuous Indian women attempt to seduce me in their homes. Their intent is to divest me of my earnings. Such actions are unacceptable.Understand this fact: you can have neither my money, nor my weapons. I suggest that you inform your peers that we engaged in violent sexual acts. Currently, I am rapping with my associates, the Junior Mafia. I’m having some difficulty understanding why you refuse to approach me. I am attempting to make eye contact with you through my expensive glasses, and as soon as you respond with a smile, I will approach you.

I prefer to open the conversation with light banter about my wardrobe and jewelry, then I like to discuss my collection of expensive cars. This is more than enough to convince you to have sexual intercourse with me. I am able to insert my penis further into you when I enter you from behind. Furthermore, you will be able to reach orgasm. I understand this to be a problem with your current sexual partner. He needn’t be concerned about your whereabouts. Please phone him and inform him that you won’t be home for a while. By the way, please sing the chorus of the song for me also.

Your current love interest no longer wishes to hear your fabrications about the length of your member. After I had sexual intercourse with your woman, she became enlightened as to the proper way it is supposed to be performed; violently and immorally. It would be in your best interest to keep your woman away from me as my sexual prowess is very strong. If you are unconvinced, ask Puff Daddy.

Despite the fact that you attempted to win her at her doorstep with bags full of expensive clothes and a car (the lower end model Mercedes Benz which you financed by signing over your current vehicle) containing an expensive stereo and a cellular phone, your woman has contacted me through my pager indicating that we should rendezvous at midnight.

You, on the other hand, jump from job to job, barely able to maintain payments on the Mercedes Benz you purchased for your woman. Meanwhile, I continue to engage in sexual intercourse and commit lewd osculatory acts with your women. My only remaining option is to request that she leave my home and return to you because I have reached orgasm and no longer have a need for her presence.

The ultimate decision rests with you. Whom do you choose as your sexual partner? I can take you on cruises around the world. I will dress you in the finest jewelry and footwear. You will be envied by women worldwide in your fine clothes and jewelry. There is a special place in my heart for beautiful women. I will defeat your man in an altercation because he is effeminate.

You will be dressed in finest clothes on the runways of Paris. I will fly you to every state to shop for fine clothes and jewelry. You will enjoy sexual intercourse with me and your man will be forced to pleasure himself through manual stimulation. What a life! I’ll return you to LaGuardia in time to catch your 8 o’clock flight. The timing is perfect because I have scheduled a date with a second woman who arrives at the same gate at 9 o’clock. I’ll seduce her in the same way that I seduced you. I rap well and I am a positive reflection of my home town. Not only am I a sexually deviant, misogynistic, immoral, wealthy, male prostitute, but I also sit on the board of directors of the organization that governs others of my kind.

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