I get very tired of being forced to do the United States Government’s job for them while being blamed for the crimes of the Clown of England and Donald Trump. They refused me admission to school as a child so they could make this illegal homework requirement a lifelong jest and every reporter in America preferred to make a mockery of themselves to standing up for what is right in the issue. Somehow the rabid even got the Ayn Rand Society to go along with direct brainwave extraction. How and why our society let a couple of devious rock stars pervert and destroy everything our school system stands for may never be answered in search of original sin. The Government needs me because there isn’t one. Whatever the ruling power in our society may be they are something else, and like Donald Trump’s imaginary immigrants, we don’t know who they are!
It is paramount to grasping atrocity that a grotesque argument about spiritual purity over a stupid and evil violinist built to violate all remaining rights of man in America by malicious diagnosis of a victim of torture allowed the assassins to test their new interrogation equipment under the rubrics of a godlaw paradox. How philosophical. Their claim of a hidden shadow, a traitor’s heart, the will to live, allowed them to mobilize countless people with illegally obtained misinformation who conferred on themselves that because they knew nothing about me therefore they could promote any lies they preferred to believe on whim. This mess erupted like an arsonist’s volcano from Pittsburgh’s child trafficking union (the existence of which is well known) wearing the mask of Catholic worker who have long molested me homeless as a pimp collection service after arranged attack prostitution masquerades as girlfriends and even a fiance. This action of vice in the building of the pornographic pyre by the world’s fundamentalist tripartite called AIDS is absolutely central to stalking, cover up, failure to warn, prying the gold caps from my teeth in Iowa, advocating for the truly guilty, and total getaway actions in Britain’s promotion of the Carousel Club where Jim Marrs, their primary information gatherer once danced, to its victory in Vegas as Cirque de Soleil after Oliver Stone purchased the work of Marrs to promote Jim Garrison the keeler.
The godfather of this gold digger culture came in person to shake my hand: Martin Sheen. They pride themselves on prisoners dilemmas worthy of Durrenmatt and consider murder sports a game of matching wits with the Class of ‘84 at Carnegie Mellon. They stalled for a lifetime while calling failure to warn in evil hour necessary lest the queerbait play all big. They called it publicly in the Post Gazette and by ripper murder at Sound Mental Health, a food fight over a moral penny. Comment on this requires a scale of priorities unheard of at the University of Washington, falling each other to justify and get in good with the perps. They sneer with cold, straight face at the students, offering a little nod of approval, n’you can only prove yourself by murder or by death.
To trace this homicidal war game of Obama hatters means looking at Queer Seattle, Oliver Stone and the Warhol. Although as a child I had a reaction formation from trauma about the church which the cleverest clucked was just right, it isn’t, properly speaking, legitimate Christianity, but it does have a heritage, that of Hitler’s jesuit De Grell, whose disciple is Martin Sheen. Unsurprisingly, King Edward got in on this, and announced for Queen Elizabeth and Billy Graham that Jesus was mighty and could forgive even Hitler, so we have the Spirit Foundation now of Yoko Ono to tell us all, and they have told us all. The rabble rousing impresarios of this Shakespeare-Kasperian-cy is heaped up in the acidheads of Beatle wonderland long overdue for a real journalistic investigation.
Public Defenders took a holiday. They issued a Proclamation, seconded by the murderers of Donnie Chin. The Beatles, they screamed bloody hell and foul of oath at dissent, with hatred bursting from their boiling brains, and machetes at the ready, were far, far too stupid to think for Holy Reagan whose vestige, they then cooed amiably, softening their speech to the lisp of Father Brian Eno, had bowed at the helden-side of Bitberg Belsen lo with a wreath of forgiveness and pity as one with those who placed a flower in the rifle muzzles of the soldiers arrayed at Kent State. Pausing for effect, they eyed you closely, allowing this wowliness a moment and more to sink in. This, they then hummed proudly, cocking their bushy brows, must therefore be the work of someone else, someone as deceitful as they are brilliant; can it be? It is! The work of the queerbait, haha. Thus it was written, so it shall be soothsayed, and the judge hammered accordingly. No further questions, not the first question allowed. On watch were the postal workers from Deliverance.
The puns, oh the puns, how they revelled in God’s plan. The way UW and CMU operated in creating a nuclear inferno of Climate Change ultimatum called trump in the AIDS attack Gregory Karl poetized as World of Ash. The British straight forth, gobblers in good fun, derfing ho, to parade the ideals of The Arts as a culture to be used by their rabid as though a particularly distasteful specimen in a plastic bag planted with a sour sniff on the confusion of youth like pepper on the brain so that the eye of suspicion would fall upon Jimmuh queerball.
The Democratic Party, in on this all along, allowed JFK’s killers to manufacture a lampoon effigy made of flesh and blood and then subject the wreckage of child abuse to torture and slavery and got the Kennedy and King Families to endorse it and you say it does not demonstrate the presence of genius far greater than mine? It is exhibitionist of gargantuan contempt, and what is more they haven’t made any secret of it, they have bragged openly of what we are forbidden to utter a word. Recall KDKA’s Abdul the Terrorist on the radio crowing that no one is innocent turning out to be a Jewish kid who laughed, “I am highly contemptuous of the whole thing,” working by the way with a staff at bookstores who to this day accuse me of boundary problems, yet the Patriot Act was clearly designed so that either you salute them or you kneel with Colin before them. How’s that for a choice?
Despite careful explanation, for Seattle Queers were told all this, it was explained to the stupid clowniacs at The Stranger many times, they preferred their own nightmarish take that being ripper hatters was therapy, your wish is our command style for Donald Trump’s Green Party and his bizarrest lackey Penis Gabriel of Genesis. The blow reposts from Microsoft and the Veterans Administration, making no secret of robbing my name and life for a million dollar film plan, withhold my rights because fully advised that I have no intention ever of helping them. They demanded access to Jimmy Creary’s trembling marijuana secrets so I can be classified vivisection material by my betters on Her Majesty’s Secret Rock Star Service.
Heaped in Mother Denial, in return for a pat on the head from Columbia, addled by Spike Ole Lee and his bro Andrew Cho, they announced their agency as beatlemaniacals from Warhol calling machete attacks leveling the playing field against the horrible curse of Jimmy Creary’s poetry bent. The FBI sent in a Hollywood version of Keystone Cops from the dark web of Goth to dress up bedazzlingly, breathe deeply, act panicky and play like they were investigating.
The school cut out the groin of a talented deaf man then offered me as a chopped up souvenir to a nightmare of Christian services among those play acting city boys while secretly fighting for the rights to their Xiu Xiu curiosity. In the furiously weird claim of the book JFK and the Unspeakable the author simply left out that the Merton Center themselves were the ones who refused, by prayer silence of course, to allow anyone to warn anybody else about the slanders on high from their hired hookers. Dr. Proctor crows that white people won’t change until they are afraid of black people. Well-luh, as John Stockwell said of the United States in the Third World they don’t mess with Russia because Russia will rape them right back. The KKK certainly isn’t afraid of the Black Panthers, so who, exactly, could Proctor and his mail thief union have in mind scaring? Some white thissy that Charlthes won’t print?
Oh they have many vignettes to share, they are neat, you must participate in their plays.
