Police work is important, so is journalism. I don’t believe in actionable guesswork, but the society around me has obviously fallen through the cracks, from which arise the bogeymonster of fear of reckless endangerment of others for testifying while this bogeymonster is now providing show and tell in the form of bodies and voices going, “See! See!” from the weasels of don’t ask, don’t tell, foiling resolve with another chapterhouse of conflicted meanings, sniveling, if only you would comply with the British. I wish I could say that any of this was something new from the cannibal pot of Donald Trump put together for British evil genius in symbiosis with New York City at Carnegie Mellon but most people know it ain’t. No matter who cries, the voices of bedlam always laugh, having played to the hilt the lies of Pittsburgh for use in molesting me. Without history the present means whatever you want it to. So get ready to hear the tall tale of principle yammering out of Seattle from the point of view of someone who knows better.
If you believe some of those Jews were in on the AIDS attack why shouldn’t we gun them down? Because it is a doublecross by their partners in the crime, and of law and order in our society whose ultimate purpose isn’t hard to read, coming around in the name of National Security as a black man in an army coat, saying not one more word about Leslie Katz and Aaron Dixon, you dig? This is the plot that killed Kennedy and King and made its big, big sale during the AIDS attack and Vince Eirene of Catholic Worker, was in league with Gail Burstyn from day one. The church of MisterRogers employed the men who tortured me at turns. We are talking about the parochial doctor system, lisping away at the immorality of the inferiors, ducking and offering an alternative satisfaction of the grievance committee, like police robbing a house and agreeing to arrest somebody afterwards for it.
The rabid likes his sword of hypocrisy to cut two ways, you mourned the victims, it leers, therefore you are as accomplice as he. The difference of course is the one between innocent until proven guilty and military sociology. On one side are the corpses, and on the other the eternal franchise of the heist, enjoyed formerly by Benjamin Spock and still again by William Pepper. But you don’t have to believe that, you can do what everyone does, you, too, can vote for vomit who help themselves to anyone they want with no respect for the social contract, our rights and dignities, disability, fair reward or due process, they are Team Syphilis, raping as they pillage, with the new age voodoo of HIV ambiguity for their license to kill, even though they serve the attackers themselves. Man, that’s neat. One of their most verminous and asinine ringleaders, Adrian Belew of the warped plastic band King Crimson, is very unfortunately a Gail Burstyn one-liner who takes his droll stage senilities for sacred intuition. What he say goes with all the hate and mayhem smoldering in the aisles.
I have been living with the Mandate of Fiction from the perpetrators long enough that one more insult, slap in the face and spit in the eye is hardly any surprise. Pittsburgh thinks they are better than the killer at Tree of Life. I say you ain’t, neither is Seattle and they can hang a token for Molly of Iowa from their bear cap as a token of their achievements. The United States of America is a genuinely awful society. I went to baby school with the kids gunned down in Pittsburgh. Their deaths were just stirring the pot of what that filthy ogre Penis Gabriel calls poker alchemy. We know Penis is a gibbering gobbler who agrees with himself no matter what. He is also a liar, an obscurantist and a diabolicist, but UW medicine is on his side with the craft of military sociology and the anthrax shy vector. Their slanders are a ridiculous idea that still manages to trump hard work. The mandate of fiction he pulled in selling for Kennedy’s assassins the lie that they discovered the script, moving swiftly like the killer at Tree of Life to protect the guilty by mayhem was designed to accomplish the same desired outcome, protection of Leslie Katz for Hillary Clinton under the nuclear umbrella of John Lennon’s violence that they called Kasper, and stop the American press forever. Who believes in them now? After raiding the bank to bring tribute to the British savages in pussyball. It was like the ultimate stupid pun on Prescott Bush’s first name, and spin on the adage Who Watches the Watchmen? The Press? Then I want them caught, came the lisp. The Press was caught with a gurgle by black henchmen of Mancine capturing the queerbait as a foolish child deluded by the 60's with a long term blackmail of embarrassment, under the violence of brutality, all cooking for the goody good Lewis Lapham of Harpers to celebrate in evil hour as the fat lady singing, an orchestra of murder, a symphony of mayhem, a croaker in a word.
What could be more fun for the Palace of London than making the AIDS attack into a family game of let’s beat up Jimmy again. Even with the dead at Tree of Life, it never fails Pittsburgh Catholic and the NAACP. The de-humanizing character of sociology is obvious where the black man is always right and a white death doesn’t matter because the issue isn’t law it is a ledger of satisfaction from the syphilis realm and the Greens of all stripes call it higher knowledge, at Pitt they say it is the nature of reality, and of course it was all Table Talk in Hitler’s Germany. The illusion of a cavalry is old school from Yojimbo deception, slap both sides and then play peacemaker. Oh, they looked at me, you are invited to think, and said look what those Jews did to him. It’s true enough, but it was also the British finks. I provide without having any say in the matter, the persona of choice for the British finks. They say how dare you admit that Lennon faked his own death in defense of their partnership with the monsters they claim killed him, and you will die trying to catch them, for the British are lurking and shadow banning the text for future chapters. No more Leslie talk, see?
The pathetics in the police can disentangle the Warhol web that signs its name in sadism and prints its face in a series of hallucination-like Hollywood dreams. They pluck the strings of culture in a gladiator spectacle of victim chicken fights for a syphilitic game of scroogeball from Penis McCartney. Tupac Sheykhet and Molly of Iowa, targeted to debunk what the sociologists call privileging of the deteriorating European white resumes the masquerade of rescue one has long identified in British Yojimbo. Ringside speculators call dibs on the next act for Mr. President’s attention in the name of queerbutt and the snickering political antics of Seattle. Catering to flunkies with the tears of those rubbish middle class whites who think they so special, man.
How this got started comes down from the ancestors. The rabid demanded and received high jurisdiction at Nuremberg despite the fact that America were the conquering Army and our magnanimous gesture went to their heads. Killing Kennedy with the help of Oswald Mosley they scribbled our name out of the victory script for the last day in a life when Captain Marvel zappa'd him right between the eyes. If that isn't getting real where nothing is real, that is what the rabid, who call blindside attack and serial mutilation on a disabled deaf child throughout and into and including adulthood a "duel" also now call repayment. They paid us back for Lend Lease by getting even for Duke Edward’s Tokyo though the tropical fascism of Elton.
In looking over the personalities and stakes we find the weird alliance of Franklin Graham and Mel Gibson operated by Seattle’s Simon LeSeaquee. They are so freaking cute and that there was no attempt at early intervention only brings them smiles, because it would have meant protecting the at risk, like Jimmy Queery, and that’s against Eno's rules. There’s a double meaning to the expression might have been; something might have been there that isn’t, something might have been possible that no longer will be, but double fantasy isn’t at work in the moral, they killed JFK and put on a play about Lennon to disguise the ravage of James MacRyland as a trade. Two birds, one Oliver Stone.
