There is a studied Semper Fi to the Kennedy leadership that probably makes me the brunt of a lot of jests in Pittsburgh.   I believe from years of study that when you look at the so-called Kennedy Curse you are seeing in actuality a White Russian vendetta.  Books on the White Russians are expensive, but they had quite a formidable presence as friends of Jacqueline Onassis in Dallas, one of whom got Oswald his job, and were loyal to the Czar, not Bolsheviks in other words, and have been found guilty in historic works of playing a major role in the rise of Hitler.   The Kennedys might even join that lampoon of me, enjoying NWAsianWeekly’s reminder of how I misidentified a Rocky blow up doll in a Penis Gabriel video for Sylvester Stallone, so much so that they put a likeness of the Spider from Mars that Leroy Blevins found before his death in a reflection upon the lens of Abraham Zapruder, who made the infamous assassination video that is so horrific that even researchers refuse to admit what Jackie O. seems to pull, a spider on the Dallas Records Building the likeness of which they put on the cover of their newspaper in time for the murder of Saoirse, as a promotion of derision.

      When something is speculative but fits, it’s legitimate to have it where people can see and be aware of it.   Those who want the American public kept in the dark have a nasty habit of implying that loose lips sink yellow submarines.   

       The easy thing about these poachers is getting the message of what they are driving at.  The hard part is explaining how they are pulling it off so cleverly in broad daylight. They don’t want anyone to properly investigate.  When Pitt lured me to an appointed location, I wasn’t bothering anyone, and attacked me in a false arrest on Oct. 17, 1993, initialled Defiant Trespass (DT) they made clear they don’t want anyone to properly investigate.  If they had wanted proper investigation, they would have responded to my report of organized crime and evidence of murder and immediately summoned a warrant to search the Scott Security garage on Snively Drive where I had been held hostage.  It was falling from the roof into junk, but packed with boxes and boxes of papers. Having seen Pittsburgh put so many serious matters into false light, they probably have a laugh at how squeamish I am about wrongful conviction. The only encounter I ever had with Chancellor Nordenberg of Pitt led to a lifelong dissidence towards his using our school of ethics to promote the idea that might makes right, and that it is your job to wrongfully convict if you so can do.

     I realize this company of gentle readers strongly prefers to be comfortably bullshitted over being dragged through the android zone of state secrets pertaining to assassin culture and Armageddon.   Conspiracy theory is a stigmatized designation. However, the murder of Saoirse Kennedy is a strange thing for an innocent person to do, and it sheds more light on the Hidden Imam of the Walrus Play Warhol is putting on.  Rather than not explain, I propose the opposite. To understand what they are doing requires proving they have the intellectual capacity, which means exhibiting the precedent in their thought processes. Having the means is one of the essential requisites to action.  Deanna Mancine used to utter, “I would if I could but I can’t so I won’t,” between jibes of, “Are you deaf or can’t you hear?” and “I’m not as dumb as you look.” By showing they have the thought tendency and the means, I hope to explain in some detail why, for example, Tim Kaine announced himself as the guardian angel of Ronald Reagan, a matter that they want to use to trivialize their poaching of Kennedys and Craries, the latter of whom they will brush off with Kennedy loyalty to Reagan.  Power wasn’t born yesterday, after all.

        To illustrate the wherewithal of the assassins, Frank Herbert was from the State of Washington.  He wrote, “Soul Catcher,” the African sacrifice-of-a-white novel that wowed the Black Panthers. He conceived of Thufir Hawat, who amused Deanna’s brother to no end, a mentat, or computative genius, who is nevertheless misled into hatred of those he loved by misfeed of fake news.  Omoja a culture misled into hatred by the computations of their misfed loyalty. What a wonderful play by the Axis on American delusions of winning the peace. Herbert conceived of Krazilec, a typhoon struggle of the soul, every bit as horrendous as the AIDS attack, and the idea that the power to destroy the spice, like the Brazilian Amazon Apology Fires, would rule the planetsphere.     

       A mass identity theft is underway to finalize Axis conquest of the United States in solidarity with Britain’s coming King.  The spirit world is an occupied zone not least because of the little known, but certified “Publisher’s Project” (rare book) allowing blackout to promote the presentation of trickery by default.  Those who prefer to be comfortably bullshitted have been told to go to sleep and say upon wakening that nothing untoward took place during their siesta. When NWAsianWeekly allowed me to write local commentary I almost believed that they were challenging blackout under right to know scruples.  I’ve been tutored to the contrary again. Their guru, Penis Fripp, calls it walking a tight rope.   

         The killers work fast, they’re pool sharks, pussyballers, high five Death Row hoodie-winks, and their idea of Justice isn’t blind it’s google-eyed and licky chops, making good on Donald Trump’s fear mongering of subversion by inclusion.  They have their shell game in a Hollywood bank of tradition, Shot in the Dark, and Yellow Submarine, sliding doors and trigger happy mis-spells. Ian Fleming and Allen Dulles always used fake identification for their fastest agents. This was handy for the big Houdini.

         The game is fun for boozers and bozos, familiars in the local precinct clinks, but this one gets ugly.  The Bond film representing American Sheriffs as slow-paited clowniacs promotes Her Majesty’s superiority on our turf in such a ways as to lampoon J. Edgar Hoover’s rejection of Ian Fleming’s license to kill American New Yorkers the British had accused of spying, like poor little Jimmy, blindsided because doomed to be psychologically consistent with a nerve agent induced neuroplastic identity, crying, as Deanna would say, over spilt milk.

        My father Ryland Wesley Crary of the CVL-30, WW2, author of America’s Stake in Human Rights, 1949, met Eisenhower at Teachers College and was Chair for Philosophy of Education at the University of Pittsburgh, among his many distinctions.  On my mother’s side, my grandfather Ward was copy-editor at the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. Pittsburgh never treated me very well, they made me a strange case by hitting me blindside in childhood, maiming me deaf and holding me in a trafficking situation that became more and more suspicious as the Warhols got involved and made a ton of dough on the black market exploiting me.  A medical assassination seems to be in progress commissioned by the State of Washington.

       Since a few Americans cried when the Kennedys died, I realize that not everyone was part of the crime.   The mean spirit of the online discussion that came my way about the death of Saoirse, however, explodes. When a Warhol type calling itself AndYou said, “you paid with your heart,” it was enough to make me wish police took what I hear more seriously or that someone more objective that the Warhols had my home computer imprisoned in their observation ward.   Although I find the treatment I live with, and the deaths of the Kennedys, shocking, I also know the curiosity shop atmosphere that surrounds me, no thanks to CMU. My right ear is rattling after a poison that left a huge abscess on my lip that spread to my gums and emitted a lot of plaque I fear may have been intended to target my brain. The hospital doesn’t know how to treat this midi-bug. The authorities here already slipped me unfair and unneeded medications causing diabetes and purposeful erectile dysfunction for the case promoted intrepidly by Warhol on behalf of Pennsylvania child molesters.   Seattle Arts Museum supports Warhol in their advance. Suffice it to say that I found very sinister and irregular the remark from their agent, “you paid with your heart,” when in mourning for the Kennedy girl.

         The situation makes a brother too impatient for baseball and has the stricture of Come Out and Fight Like a Man, but this is a debate call.   A Local man today described being, “a luxury sports car salesman. Had a client purchase $135,000 car a few months back. His credit was frozen, fraud alerts posted everywhere for the SS #. He was still able, in person, to pass all security questions from us, financial institutions, and credit bureaus. All the alarms were lifted, and he drove away with the car. I was not okay with my gut feeling, even though my boss approved the sale, so I pocketed the 2nd key and a gps code, in case I needed to get him back. The next morning I was able to gather enough info, contact the real person who’s identity had been stolen in another state, and have this jerk arrested. Turns out he was a retired Marine that had been able to spend over $500k in 48 hours, using a person’s info who had frozen every detail of their life as protection, to no avail.”  

     I told him I'm dealing with the most sophisticated criminal of all. He framed himself as the man who didn't know and burned news reporting as a felony if anyone named the truly guilty man which is him. Clever, and he had help from Scotland Yard, more specifically, Brian Eno.   

     With an acid hatred forbidding all legitimate analysis, Eno would cock his head and lisp that the signifiers were, “possible signs.”  Pitt and Eno disallow the reality that the sum total probity in some of the coincidences is zero. Others may be less certain, but if they aren’t they probably lead to Bank of the New Confederacy.   

     Jim Marrs, who received my photograph dated 1966 reading, “I love Sira Siran,” on false pretenses before I realized what he had really done, it can’t be recalled, called his book Crossfire for dizzying reasons that are impossible to construe.  For one it evokes the burning cross, but for another it means two sides were shooting. That’s what is missed in what UW Sociology has done.

     Not to be mysterious, they are hiding that Blacks helped.  This is the function of the crossfire, to keep up a double homicide cover story using race war as a smokescreen for promotion of an Ark concept in the AIDS attack.   Look a moment at the lyric given priority, “paranoia’s poison door,” which their Pittsburgh lickyboots called, “pigment and figment.” When getting people confused or afraid of them, they make the turnstile spin into Hollywood’s plastic cunning, a getaway trick.  Malicious jumbling of the signifiers is evidence in whoever convinced Hendrix to call a record: Axis. I doubt the ancestors smile at swastikas, pro. Of course, saying it was meant to be is a handy way of covering up surrendering.

     The Kennedy researchers have long covered for the actual killers.  It is, for them, a work in progress. The White Russian community, the Reagans, scorned Kennedy as one of those humanists who preach communism while retaining their sheltered liberal privileges, thinking themselves safe from the gunfire that being soft invites.   Jimmy Creary was too much, too good to be true, a nailbiter with a pretty fantasy speech.

         Ming Na Wen, a favorite of UW Sociology and NWAsianWeekly as well as a Carnegie Mellon ally of Cyril Wecht and Rick Santorum, made a proclamation at school for the Warhols before going on to work with Disney to the effect that she believes I deserve to die by a fate worse than AIDS.   Her campaign with Warhol has been to mock the suffering of homelessness, the rape of my deaf advocate, and the stalking of family members. This Washington gang murdered a namesake of the only child our family has been permitted, Molly, in Iowa as an affront to me who took refuge there.   So clearly, the implication is that my life is forfeit. I have dared to testify to the sinister circumstances of their so-called “entertainment therapy” lobby, but my primary interest is in mentioning two facts that seem very relevant. One, although I am in Section 8 with a voucher, hold good standing working my Associate Degree program at Tacoma Community College, an Honors Pathway, after being taught sign language by the advocate I mentioned, totally on her own, in violation of an underworld Union ban, I am too infirm to make the bid to get away to Massachusetts. I’d rather be there.

       The second is that I no longer believe that the KDP is actually disbanded.  I think they are intrepid and that the disturbing way I was lured here by NWAsianWeekly and Jay Inslee after the murder of Donnie Chin, about which I gave them information concerning a strange person named Joe, led them to advertise in gang symbolism the death of Saoirse Kennedy before it happened.  I had written to Joe Kennedy to express my concerns about the way that Liberal safety was being affected by targeting of me as my father’s son. It is very clear to me that Chinatown/International District survivors of Donnie Chin, advocates for Ming Na Wen, would only be misusing deliberately the death in a community that affected me (Dr. Gregory Chin is one of the only men who has ever been brave enough to speak up about the scientific evidence and glaucoma caused by brutal beatings in pre-adolescent childhood.  Donnie Chin, likewise, was a community defense man).  

      The odd misconstruction of this situation that came from CID testifies to berserker activity in Seattle that is far-reaching and I suspect traces to UW Sociology long implicated in the crimes by Warhol.  Like Oswald, UW Sociology like to dress up as Marxists and put the right wing hits where they will inflict the greatest faith in Yoko Ono.

        My grandfather Ward was a Distinguished Citizen of Poplar Bluff, Mo by vote of Council and a copy editor of the Post Dispatch.  I hitchhiked to St. Louis from Pittsburgh the Summer after graduating from high school, Taylor Allderdice, and visited my grandparents in Topeka.  My other grandfather Mac lived in Dallas City, Iowa. I know the Midwest and spent a summer typing for Hypatia Feminist Philosophy Journal of the University of Illinois.  I never liked Reagan. I was born during Eisenhower who my father knew at Teachers College as a veteran of the CVL-30, famous for George Bush. Father was a humanist, unless he was just using me. 

        A Jewish girl from Bryn Mawr, evidently sponsored by Carnegie Mellon's Granger Morgan, attacked me with a gang led by a first name club, Ronnie and Kasper, as a very little boy.  The Jekyll Island club went by first name signifiers. Oswald’s I.D., reading Hidell, probably was a condensation of Hyde and Jekyll. I ended up disabled for life. Since then, her patrons, George Romero and Martin Sheen, have been chaptering, to enslave my literary talents, without pay, to answering their political mayhem, often incendiary on the subject of race.

         Using the Jekyll Island habit of mind, a first-name club, the CMU establishment are playing a Y2K game of signifying their murders by first name, then, in overt hostility, answering by targeting victims by their first name only.  For example, when I was attacked by the men named Ronnie and Kasper in 1974 it clearly signified Reagan and Weinberger. In fact, their follow up operations, which Peter Gabriel misrepresented for Romero as "an experience park," took place on the island where Weinberger lived.  

          To remedy that I have been investigating and providing a source for a reading public that I would hope includes the police, they put into spin the first-name "Joe" possibly regarding a murder in Chinatown of Donnie Chin. Like the use of Molly the implication that it referred to Joe Kennedy was meant to victimize, terrorize and mark innocent people to punish bravery towards the assassins.  These poachers love to cause pain. My blog http://storychecksout.org describes how I think they used that tragedy to kill Saoirse Kennedy, as though to say, “Voila!”.  An anonymous blogger from Warhol told me immediately afterwards, "You paid with your heart." All of this is very subtle infamy.

          This morning, I received a message that was in allpoetry.com notification about a man that is "following" me.  The name Nicholas-Porter is meant to evoke Duncan-Porter Homeless Shelter, run by a friend of Martin Sheen name Vince Eirene, and Nicholas Dibarno, a brutal child trafficker working with Gail Burstyn whose letters to me can be found at http://texasschoolbook.weebly.com It says that if I erase and stop making sense no one else will die.

          These poachers love to cause pain.   I am not deliberately serving them as a storyteller.  It is just very hard to get them to stop. They have vicious and spiteful ingenues at places like Mercy Behavioral, Justin, for good example, ranting and howling that I am a threat and that Reagan didn’t know, but he has Masons! Masons! who get off by spreading storylines to the effect that I was gloating when some psycho shot several people I have known all my life across the street from my house at a Synagogue in Pittsburgh.   In reality, I cried and mourned them. These slanderers would go on to say that I glorified it and used it for self-promotion, when, in reality, a poem I wrote about it was widely shared.

         Joe Kennedy did not kill Donnie Chin.   UW Sociologists probably did but to prove their loyalty-to-cause the survivors of Donnie Chin, Rose was named in a link to Daytona, these erstwhile “family” of Donnie Chin decided to work with Burstyn and Ono through Warhol spreading the hate, the usual how-you-like-it-bitch of Pittsburgh and The Green Party.  My blog exhibits the evidence for their hand in the murder of Saoirse. Gregory Chin, strangely enough, given all that, had taken my side about the terrible injuries I live with, contributing optical examination science corroborating ferocious beatings as a child. These mayhem mongerers, who murdered a girl in Iowa for no reason at all but that she had the same first name as the child in my own family (I had taken refuge for a while in Iowa) pick and choose their symbols for chaos and cruelty.  It is because I trusted Gregory Chin so powerfully that I came back when the medical mistreatment resulted in diabetes, and why I also discussed evidence for crime in the loss of Donnie Chin with Seattle Police. Suffice it to say that the death of Saoirse is the last time I will ever have a kind word for the UW Sociologists of Chinatown.

         I believe, strategically, they aimed for a contradiction.  That they murdered Saoirse to establish their power center as King.