COVID QUESTION #2

Red question mark

So, I was listening to an African lady doctor being interviewed on a major talk radio station.

Cartoon Black lady doctor
This gal is a world-renowned expert on infectious disease and works for W.H.O.

For those of you who haven’t been paying attention, W.H.O. is the World Health Organisation of the United Nations. Along with being notoriously corrupt and inept, it’s the main purveyor of the pandemic hoax.

Anyway… this woman explained that Black African immigrants have higher rates of Covid infection and death than Whites due to “cultural factors.”

What she dared not say was those factors include all too many Blacks believing wacknoid conspiracy theories about Western medicine being part of a genocidal program perpetrated against them by evil Whitey. So, even those Blacks genuinely infected with Covid (or, anything) avoid effective health care.

Hell, Africans still consult witch doctors when plagued with pesky problems like kuru, scrofula and, uh, well… plague. 

Hell, in Africa, witch doctors chop albinos into little pieces to make magic potions to cure impotence, dandruff and the heartbreak of psoriasis.

African albino boy with arm hacked off
And you thought I was joshin’ ya.

Hell, in Africa, men rape infants to cure AIDS.

Why Men Rape Babies

If that isn’t happening then why are charities asking me to give money to stop it?

Poster - I don't cure AIDS!

The African doctoress went on the say that many “people of color” including those of African descent work at “ground zero” of Covid – public transportation, care homes and hospitals. Then, she inadvertently spilled the beans – 

“The sad truth is that the vast majority of non-White immigrants who come to the West carry latent TB.”

That was when your correspondent spat his Fruit Loops all over his radio.

Cartoon man vomiting
“Whoa, whoa, rewind – WHATTHEFUCK???!!!”

When I was a kid in Brooklyn, we joked that TB stood for Twisted Balls. Now, let it be said that Twisted Balls is nothing to sneeze at. In fact, sneezing whilst afflicted with Twisted Balls must really, really smart. But that’s not the TB to which our Black lady clinician was referring. No, she meant Tuberculosis. Ya know, Tuberculosis? The world’s most infectious and deadly bronchial infection?

Poster - Fight Tuberculosis
Yeah, that TB.

Now lemme think… wasn’t there something in the news recently about a super-infectious and potentially deadly bronchial infection making the rounds? Hmmmnnn… wait… it’ll come to me… oh, yeah – Covid -19.

Sketch of detective with magnifying glass
Curious to a fault, your intrepid reporter felt compelled to consult his well-thumbed copies of Gray’s Anatomy and Funk & Wagnalls dictionary plus official government websites where he learned this – 

If you have latent TB, the TB bacteria in your body are ‘asleep’. You are not ill and you cannot pass TB on to others. 

However, the bacteria might ‘wake up’ many years later, making you ill with active TB.

Latent TB bacteria are more likely to wake up if you experience lifestyle stresses or other illnesses that weaken your immune system.

Uh… might working at “ground zero” of Covid count as a stressful lifestyle? 

Uh… any chance Covid might weaken a person’s immune system?  

But, enough about them. How ‘bout us?

If you were already battling a serious bronchial infection would you want to be driven, nursed or doctored by someone carrying the most infectious and deadly bronchial infection known to man?

Be honest now. Would ya? Huh?  

Lest you think I am being a meanie to those poor folks from the Third World who are sadly afflicted with TB, I remind you that during the Great European Migration into America, White immigrants deemed physically or mentally unfit were shipped back whence they came.

Doctor examining boys at Ellis Island
White criminals, lunatics and those with TB were (Quite rightly) kicked the fuck out no matter how old they were.
Immigrants on ship deck in New York harbor
The ships that had allowed sick Whites to board were hit with heavy fines. So much for give us your tired, your poor…

Today, our governments literally invite the sick into our countries while airlines compete to see which can fly in more of the “wretched refuse.”

Hmmn… better make that “wretched and retching refuse.”

Here comes the $64,000 Covid Question

Electric sign for The $64,000 Question

And , it’s a two-parter – 

The same creeps who are pushing the official Covid narrative are those pushing for open borders and all the other outrages that will lead to The Great Replacement. 

So… Hands on buzzers, contestants.

  1. Do these creeps not know that TB is rampant in immigrants from the Third World? (In which case, they are criminally ignorant, medically incompetent and should not be allowed to dispense a single aspirin.)
  2. Or, do they know and are eager to flood the West with millions of ticking TB time-bombs which could explode at any time causing financial ruin and widespread death?  

It’s one or the other boys and girls. 

Back in my misspent Brooklyn boyhood I heard this ditty –

TB or not TB?  

That is the congestion. 

Consumptive be done about it? 

Of cough, of cough.

But not for a lung, lung time. 

Funny how prescient kid’s can be.  

Funny how Covid is being used to distract us from a genuine threat to our existence. 

Funny… yeah…

Black & White sketch of horrified male face
So, how come I ain’t laughin’? 

___________________

Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder-memoir by Jack Antonio
Available as a paperback and eBook from amazon.com and amazon.co.uk and as an eBook here

Roadmap to Blog Outa Brooklyn

Thanks for visiting my blog. It is a sampler of my murder-memoir Boy Outa Brooklyn. The best way to enjoy it is to start at the first post and read chronologically. I hope you’ll find it both hilarious and horrifying.

I will also be posting about the best books, movies and songs about Brooklyn. And, sharing my practical and off-beat travel tips. If you enjoy my blog, please follow me. Hover your mouse in the lower right corner of the screen and a pop-up box will appear. Enter your email address and you’ll never miss one of my posts. Your address will not be sold or shared and you won’t be pestered with any sales cons.

Welcome to my Brooklyn,

Jack Antonio

Available as an eBook here

And as paperback and eBook here

amazon.com

and amazon.co.uk

The Joys of Anal Sex with My Girlfriend’s Lesbian Mother’s Dead Dog

So, I got an email from amazon claiming that some of my recent reviews had not followed its “community guidelines” and had caused offence i.e. some of my reviews had cost Jeff Bezos a few shekels. Trust me, I write honest reviews good and bad. I like nothing better than praising a well written book or recommending a product that’s worth its price. Sadly, I don’t get to write either of those very often. But when a book or widget is good, I am fulsome in my praise. 

Quill pen dripping blood
If it’s crap, I dip my quill in venom and say so in strong but never vulgar language. In fact, my bad reviews are very funny. Sarcasm is the best revenge.   

 I got to thinkin’ about amazon’s “community guidelines” and what constitutes “offensive” material in the eyes of Jeff Bezos. So, I played a game. I entered every sexual kink and perversion I could think of (including ILLEGAL ones) into the amazon search engine and whatayaknow… 

Jeff Bezos laughing
Jeff Bezos is happily selling everything from Analingus to Zoophilia.
Shih Tzu with bow in hair
For those of you in the back of the classroom that means everything from sex with shit to sex with Shih Tzus.  Okay, that’s a cute little bow but, “Come on, Jeff.”

Don’t get me wrong. I’m no prude as my long-suffering readers can attest. My memoir Boy Outa Brooklyn is plenty dirty but it’s honest, clean dirt not juvenile jerk-off junk. Further, I believe that what consenting, adult Shih Tzus do in the privacy of their kennel is their business. But I wanna know how come books celebrating sex with the family or the family dog do not offend and are not against amazon’s “community guidelines ” while books questioning any part of the official “holocaust narrative” of WW2 or any aspect of the Covid-hoax are immediately censored?  

Hmmmnnnn…

Anti-smut poster 1960s
Call me old fashioned but amazon shouldn’t be encouraging sex with excrement or corpses. That’ll make ya waaayyy sicker than Covid 19.

Don’t believe me? Play my game yourself.

Vintage ad for family board game
Invent your own feeltheee search terms – the sicker the better. Guaranteed to supply hours o’ fun for the whole family.

Meanwhile, here are my favorite degenerate-discoveries for sale on amazon with the much vaunted “Jeff Bezos Seal of Approval” –  

Lesbian mother erotica
Barely legal girls erotica
Babysitter erotica
Suffocation erotica
PIss erotica
Rape fantasy erotica
TRannie rough sex erotica
Big penis erotica
Rubber bondage erotica
Circumcision erotoca
Rough sex fantasy erotica
Scatological erotica
Black teenage seduction erotica
Old and young sex erotica
Incest fantasy erotica
MILF erotica
Slave girl bondage erotica
Gay dad erotica
Pregnancy erotica

This next title is too good to miss –

Housewife Lesbian Babysitter

Lesbian babysitter porn
Piss porn
Canine erotica
Jailhouse trannie porn
Woman kissing skull

Remember that you can’t sell or buy books on amazon that in any way question the official “holocaust narrative” of WW2. But that doesn’t mean Jeff won’t sell you some holocaust porn… er, I meant to say holocaust erotica – a genre very popular in… Israel.

SS Experiment Love Camp

This fräulein gives Ilsa, She Wolf of the SS a run for the money. Believe it or not, The Toymaker and the Nazi Sadomasochist was not short-listed for a Pulitzer.

The Toymaker and the Nazi Sadomasochist

If we’re supposed to be worried about Covid infection when someone gets within three feet of us or doesn’t wear a mask then we better be worried big-time about getting within a mile of anyone who dreams of or dabbles in the depravities depicted above. You better pray they’re using hand sanitizer!

The National Socialists are condemned for being book burners. But they didn’t burn classics. They burned unnatural and unhealthy trash like the books for sale on ever-so progressive and enlightened amazon.

I, for one, say, “Burn, Baby, Burn!”

Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder-memoir by Jack Antonio
Available as an eBook and paperback from amazon.com and amazon.co.uk and as an eBook here

The Boys in the Band vs. The Village People

Gay men in studs and leather on the street
Waiting to check in at the “Y”

Even before the hit song by the Village People, everyone knew what went on at the YMCA. But, after a day walking around the streets of Manhattan and a night running around the moors of Scotland, I was too whipped to care. Plus, the “Y” was only minutes from the theater and Jersey wasn’t. So, I risked it. But, getting a room at the “Y” was not easy. It was a popular place for young Christian men to fellowship, evangelize and sodomize. The line at the check-in desk looked like a casting call for The Boys in the Band.

Vintage gay pulp cover - A Masculine Scent
I’ll say one thing for these young Christian lads, they lived by the motto, “Cleanliness is next to Godliness.”

So, I counted my blessings whenever I could get a four-dollar room with the all-important private shower. I felt like a real swell as I piled all the furniture against the door to dissuade unwanted visitors and watched Johnny Carson in glorious Black & White. For two bucks, I could get a private room but with a gang shower down the hall. One catch. There were nightly gangbangs in the gang shower. So, on two-buck nights, I’d wait until 4 AM when the orgy had finished then tiptoe down the hall and take a shower – fully clothed. For a buck, the “Y” supplied a bunk bed and a butt-plug.

Butt plug shaped like the Baby Jesus
Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder-memoir by Jack Antonio 
Image: the smiling face of Steeplechase Park in Coney Island, Brooklyn
Available as a paperback and eBook amazon.com
amazon.co.uk
And as an eBook here
https://books2read.com/The-Boy-Outa-Brooklyn
 

Hey, Sailor!

The Mermaid Tavern
The Mermaid Tavern not to be confused with the Chelsea Bar.

The cast of Macbeth drank in an 8th avenue dive called the Chelsea Bar, not to be confused with the bar of the same name in the nearby Chelsea Hotel where celebrities went to OD on heroin. No, our Chelsea Bar was a beer & shot joint that catered to longshoremen and merchant seamen. We liked the Chelsea because the beer was cheap and the ambiance earthy – our very own Mermaid Tavern. The toothless, one-thumbed bartender liked us because we bought a lot of his beer and caused no trouble. He was not the only person in the Chelsea missing a body part – all the regulars were minus a finger, arm, ear or eye. They were the guys who didn’t pay attention when the industrial safety film was shown. 

Every so often a fight would break out at the bar between two lugs and the bartender would bring out his sawn-off baseball bat to restore order. He’d slam it on the bar a few times then brandish it above his head. Silence. Then there’d be a final shouted curse from one of the combatants followed by a sudden flood of tears and a flight to the men’s room. Eventually, it hit us. These were lovers’ spats. We were in the butchest gay bar in the world. And, I am talkin’ butch. These guys looked like the wrestling tag-team of Skull Murphy and Brute Bernard. 

Skull Murphy and Brute Bernard
And, when they cried they were really scary!

The Chelsea Bar is long gone along with all those toothless, tattooed, hard-drinkin’, hard-lovin’ men. Were they buried at sea? In Potter’s Field? Did they spend their last days in the “Home for Sissy Stevedores?” Or, did these old salts care for each other in their dotage? Care for each other through the nightmare of AIDS that was gaining on them and perhaps already a stowaway in their bodies?

Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder-memoir by Jack Antonio
Image: the smiling face of Steeplechase Park in Coney Island, Brooklyn
Available as a paperback and eBook amazon.com
amazon.co.uk
And as an eBook here
https://books2read.com/The-Boy-Outa-Brooklyn
 

Come and meet those dancing feet!

Peep Show performers in the 1970s on 42nd Street, Times Square, NY
Our neighbors on 42nd Street

That’s why in 1974 New York and with hopeful hearts,my acting group dared to move into a rat’s nest flanked by porn shops. The customers of those shops received blowjobs for five bucks in the alley behind our theater. Those blowjobs were administered by Black trannies who resembled New York Giants linebackers dressed in hot pants and halter-tops. Our actresses had it extra-tough getting to and from our new home. They had to maneuver through pickpockets, pill-poppers and pimps while enduring wolf-whistles from Elvis Presley look-a-like diesel-dikes. If the actresses skirted the well-lit but obnoxious 42nd Street, they were easy prey on the dark and un-policed 41st and 43rd Streets. 

Black-trannie prostitute in NYC
All yours for $5

When we compared travel-tips, we discovered that we had independently stumbled onto the same survival strategy. To avoid being maimed, mugged or murdered, we acted nuts. The primal animal in us instinctively knew that predators didn’t eat sick prey. So, we acted sick. We walked down 42ndstreet talking to ourselves and to Jesus. We laughed hysterically at everything and at nothing. We cried out to the Mayor and the Martians. We limped. We played retarded. Under serious threat, we had cerebral palsy. 

It worked. 

Carrie was a year dead by the time we discovered this survival ruse. It might have saved her life. 

Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder memoir by Jack Antonio 
Image: the smiling face of Steeplechase Park in Coney Island, Brooklyn
Available as a paperback and eBook
amazon.com
amazon.co.uk
And as an eBook here https://books2read.com/The-Boy-Outa-Brooklyn
 

Don’t try this at home!

Gay men in a 1970s pre-AIDS leather bar
A bunch of the boys were whooping it up…

One night, Ray and Preacher take me to a notorious gay bar way west in Greenwich Village –The Toilet. (I ain’t makin’ this up – The Toilet!) The dress-style ranges from crotchless black-leather pants to crotchless black-leather pants with metal studs. And, the metal studs are on the penis, not the pants. While who knows what is going on in the back room, we are entertained out front by the floorshow. This consists of an acrobat pulling his upside-down body up a thick iron chain, link by link, with his anal sphincter muscles. Yes, this intrepid aerialist climbs up the chain with his asshole!

Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder memoir by Jack Antonio
Image: The smiling face of Steeplechase Park in Coney Island, Brooklyn
Available as a paperback and eBook amazon.com
amazon.co.uk
And as an eBook here

When AIDS comes to town

Patient with Kaposi's sarcoma of the head and neck.
It was first called the “gay cancer”

Time passed, medicine advanced and we forgot. We forgot what a scourge AIDS was, especially in show business, especially in New York. By the late 1980s, I was the only actor still alive from several casts I’d been in during the 1970s. 

At the height of the AIDS panic, I dated a public health official. She told me plans were in place to quarantine the entire city of New York, if necessary. The authorities foresaw streets piled with corpses collected by robot-controlled plague-carts. “Bring out your dead.” They were that ascared.  

Print of a Black Plague cart
Vision of a dystopian Greenwich Village

I first heard of AIDS in 1979 – the dawn of the epidemic. I had moved to a Brooklyn brownstone. Ray, my gay landlord said, “Have you heard that all the guys in the Village are getting sick? They’re calling it the gay cancer.” I still see Ray sitting there, still see the terror in his eyes, still feel the terror that shot through me. We both knew that what he was describing will kill him and maybe me. We were both ascared.

Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder memoir by Jack Antonio
Image: The smiling face of Steeplechase Park in Coney Island, Brooklyn
Available as a paperback and eBook amazon.com
amazon.co.uk
And as an eBook here
https://books2read.com/The-Boy-Outa-Brooklyn
 

What’s my motivation?

Rajneesh aka Osho
“Please to be giving me a stack of $100 bills this high.”

Method Acting teachers are seen as gurus and they embrace this mantle: “I am the great Father Figure, Witch-Doctor, Shrink, the Font of All Wisdom, the Repository of All Knowledge, the Giver of Pleasure and Pain.” No surprise their schools become personality cults. No surprise these cults are especially attractive to young women who have little self-esteem and big “Daddy” issues. The Guru demands that the student emotes at all times. The student is not having a successful scene if the student is not having a nervous breakdown – even if the scene is from Mary Poppins. Simply put – “If you ain’t crying, you ain’t acting.” 

Julie Andrews as Mary Poppins
Oh, daddy, take my money and then take me.

One Guru held his entire class captive for two days because one student had not prepared a scene. Two days. No food. No phone calls. No talking. Limited toilet breaks. Very limited. Meanwhile, across town, a revered female Guru sent her students out to pick up strangers in bars and have sex with them – in the midst of the AIDS epidemic. And, people fought to get into these classes. 

Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder memoir by Jack Antonio
Image: The smiling face of Steeplechase Park, Coney Island, Brooklyn
Available as a paperback and eBook
amazon.com
amazon.co.uk
And as an eBook here https://books2read.com/The-Boy-Outa-Brooklyn