The British rabid and their American Green Party dacoits understand that wolfpacks put personality cults before information, the latter of which even in the best of circumstances they are unable to process meaningfully.   For this reason, military strategists cunningly tune their instruments to the bowels. They call this winning the hearts of the masses. To understand a few cases in point are ready made: Aaron Dixon and Clint Eastwood.   Dixon is a very base and nauseating self-promoter, while Eastwood pays black people on the fringes of Dixon’s scene to let him point guns at them and call them forbidden names, while dissing the white pussies they pick on. Both of them are bondage jocks who would be easy to defeat if they didn’t surround themselves with murderous grave robbers.   

    Not many people bother anymore, but if one were to rewind the newsreels to 1968 you would inevitably come across the pathetic sight of Robert Kennedy calling America a compassionate country even as the Reagan vultures were already gathering to peck at his eyes and the carcass of liberalism.   Black alliance with Hitler in Axis America is heaped in disingenuous dissembling. The DIA paradox is a good example. Dia’s namesake called me to announce Lennon’s disappearing act but then by miracle of Pentagon Disney emerged as Gail Burstyn puts it “on the front”, with Chapman’s partner Sean Strub, to get even with voters who washed their hands after shaking Dixon’s scummy fist by bringing down New York buildings with hired airplanes from the friends of Donald Trump.  Ming Na Wen gets into this stuff. She was rifling the back alleys of Pittsburgh gluecifers for alliances with the most bloodcurdling grave robbers who ever lived, murderers who GLORIFIED the ripping of teeth off of cadavers in concentration camps by gassing little Jimmy in a place called King’s (Heavenly) Estate, and the British announced that the gold of the hostage is theirs.

         The Christian poisoners, who made no secret of their weapon or their sexual perversions, hired women to role-play so brazenly they put their names openly in the script, but the rabid said that they would confer the blessings of The Crown on those frauds, for the sake of argument.   Derek Parfit, their overpopulation mummy, pronounced morality zealous as they came collecting on consequentialism, meaning any sad outcome the syphilitics could misattribute upon the target. In the world of Parfit’s Reasons and Persons, maniacs in publishing in New York make no secret of what they mean to say.  They have someone named Bernard Reich in Africa. Bernard is the Marion Doctor for contemplations of virginity that directly indexes to the war game Two Virgins Pussyball they clocked to the AIDS attack.

      John Wayne, one of the usual HitlerReagan child molesters, came to bat for Lyndon Johnson yacking about Vietnam being a wilder trip than LSD in his inexcusable pro-Vichy film The Green Berets.   The nutters in the fringes of insane former vets in Pittsburgh acted out their impression of me as a victim of their nerve agent by shaking a mangy rug they nailed to a wall for a foaming dog, literally, while Dixon’s stampede promised to save the world from liberals with the help of we Don Kno Hue, and incidents like Kelly School.  Souls are shattered, souls are betrayed, that’s life cowboy, they cluck, stop whining and strip the skeletons for Sir Paul.