When a course in 60’s history was advertised my virgin quarter at our military friendly school with fluorescent koolaid imagery, enrollment was insufficient, possibly to quarantine the past.  I felt left out.  Yet there are knowns the course was not about the address giving rise to questions that weren’t going to be asked so I also felt relieved.  Who needs a voyaya into the Ironic Curtain?

       With Ringo Starr among the living and still exercising a form of power that fits easily into the Trump world, the research points of interest even in the perception of a lost generation wrong about drugs are a cultural dig of note.  Who really knows or cares for example that the Executive of Geffen Records was Bill Clinton’s first call in office or that his recording star Peter Gabriel was long married to the daughter of Queen Elizabeth’s Lord Secretary while touring with junkie maven Lou Reed?  Simple abstract thinking puts that into an exploration of the Opium Wars’ continued strategic power.

      A lot younger than the Draft age, I was attacked and forced to use inhalants as a child.  I became resentful of homework.  No one cared about the obvious brutality.  My mother tried to throw away letters illustrating that a nerve agent was given to me deliberately (she failed, I have copy to show) by vivisection doctors at Pitt in neuro-research who occasionally engaged me in surveys like, “do you believe data from Nazi experiments should be used to save lives?”

      The real problem, if you can imagine worse, is that Peter Gabriel personally authored a written and signed alibi about an AIDS testing war game on Mt. Desert Island by the same men scripted in 1974 executed in 1988 as though it were just a drama club adventure by Ming Na Wen, an old chum, now at Disney.  My archival desk proves that Gabriel is lying.

        For 60’s reasons, overdubbed by persons older than me at the time, I have been told his research group reserve the right to put me to death for going against the memories of Lou Reed and John Lennon.  My mother’s attempt to destroy and then deny were transparently intended to exonerate and give leverage to the perpetrators.

        Seattle, who banned me from their Community College, is deception central.   It may seem they are serving group loyalty, what with a statue of Hendrix on campus, but really it is deleterious solidarity put together by the aggressor lobby.  Jimi Hendrix overdosed and Lou Reed glorified heroin by shooting up vitamins before an all-age crowd, but acid rockers like King Crimson voyaged into intensely trippy fields while denying taking LSD at all.   This was an illusion machine openly glamorized.  Now that Warhol Museum and Yoko Ono fail to conceal controlling the script found at her finger snap by home invaders in Rusted Root it is all being idealized as Masterpiece Theater about Lennon’s Date of Death, the Japanese anniversary of Pearl Harbor.   The usual sequence for disallowing conversation is:

        ~ Lennon is considered an inspirational metaphor for the AIDS victims and the call to self-help shaming the weak ones

        ~ That AIDS was an attack, but that must not get around openly so spread the word that deaf queerbait kid betrayed Lennon.

       ~  Use the script to teach as a mandated resort by wise men to benefit the attackers in the name of the victims.

        Operation:  Good Plan (too pretty to throw away).

         Corollaries in modern critique are usually considered to be as expendable as adjunct professors.   It is high risk being accused of banging on no matter how high priority but getting Clint Eastwood’s autograph in the mail last quarter gives me a little lassitude in wondering aloud where he really stands on our legal authority in this disaster of the peace.

          People comfortable with all this being ignored get a headache from my station, but it all makes perfect sense.  It’s not a paradox.  I call it an imparadox because it makes perfect sense until you start saying Lennon.  Then rhyme and reason vanishes.  All I’m saying is it’s supposed to work that ways.

         Lennon is seen in early movies holding a coke bottle to his nose unopened and snorting.  The men who gassed me were letter-writing from the holocaust survivor community, an act of war-holocaust from the Warhol crowd in Pittsburgh.  Calling them heroes allows the attack to operate from all sides and advance a heavy metal plan with words like killdozer.  Calling my take on the subject mental illness is a nightmare from the 50’s but it’s also Peter Gabriel’s canvas.  He talked to junkies and they said about me, ew we hate him he should be contaminated, and Gabriel went to work inflicting debilitating injuries.  The script put the words right in their mouths.

        The script which is full of high minded British word games doesn’t just stop making sense because Lennon’s cohort promote it now, and the evidence shows clearly they are the true authors, not finders keepers, but for reasons much deeper.  For one, they gassed me in a place called Kings Estate which suggests heavenly estate and himmelsweg, the word for the ramp of the gas chambers in Germany and the culprits named Pitman which is like Quarrymen, the original name for the Beatles.  It would sound paradoxical to shout, “What?  That’s supposed to be the will of Lennon?”  But it isn’t a paradox, because it was, Pentagon Disney and Trump Network, the name of a film from 1977 in which he appears in something like cameo, pulled Houdini.   Some people figure that’s too slick, let it go, but the evidence shows there is more in store.

       The script also admits the drug craze was softening up the targets.