This note in the Summer of 2019 is to explain why the future of the United States of America depends upon electing a female leader. The objective of the Trump Administration is to damage irretrievably our national estate and thereby to forge a new national heritage. It will not happen without further resort to crime. We now know what to expect. Our country has been forcefully, unlawfully overthrown by the bullet, not the ballot and so far no one has stepped forward to suggest we lawfully remedy the situation, on the contrary, we have had demands to adopt the change. We’ve been kept in the dark with understanding minimized because understanding abolishes all hope of reconciliation. A boy named Mike Exler once said to me with a palpable sneer, “Nobody takes you seriously.” Trump, whose ally in spirit he was, has in mind the same for the entire country, what is left of it, and time is running out. Although I am not satisfied with our candidates, I take the fact that women are running seriously as our best approach, and now to why.
In suggesting we put the destiny of the USA under the discretion of a woman I underwrite this mission by facts. It cannot be just any sort of woman. The women on the ticket at present preclude support because half-truths will never be enough. This isn’t to say there is no place for ideology. Quite rightly when something is absolutely proven to be the case it is proper that its inclusion to be certain as a point of ideology, as is entirely warranted and all opposition shouted down. A good example: It is proven that when women are empowered to negotiate within the family as equal partners that fertility rates decline along with infant mortality while health and good conduct are all in evidence. [Mukesh Eswaran] The attackers know this of course, and have short-changed our right to negotiate within our own country.
My testimony is case intensive, but it is a fact and thus must be encoded into our ideology. The assassins have never hesitated to do this by contradicting the truth. Such wanton resort to lies is what gives ideology such a bad name. According to the Texas Schoolbook, which is really a British satire of education at best, the power at work announces with authority that the very word Infantry is an automatic claim on infants by the military and that because, for example, in their view I didn’t fight back against kidnappers of slaughtering brutality (I would be dead) I am therefore to blame for any crime they committed for whom I continue to provide a ransom not against the military authorities responsible but for the military authorities who were behind the atrocity and who it is illegal to fight against, whether as a child, or in their view even by word. Somehow American Law has ignored all this, probably because of Trump’s 911 and NK bomb scare, behind which is the chained library of Wimborne Minster who wrote the Burstyn script incognito with an alliance council against which I have been mutilated as a humanist in serial fashion for lifelong bondage as a prize trophy of American Heritage.
This is my allegation, completely supported by abundance of proofs. Against this the ripper plays his own script claiming that John Lennon was murdered due to negligence that mysteriously he claims to be mine, bizarrely attributing it to having been, so he says, an imitation of Lennon’s reckless morals, confess or be denounced as a traitor, in support of the script by which he claims Lennon was killed robbing the killers, authorities in the military, of their almighty inspiration. This moebius lisp is a lie masquerading as a Federal paradox. Reading habits and access to the truth are our best form of resistance.
Against these readings will be a council of feminists who don’t want the truth understood, child molesting, child trafficking feminists who call themselves feminazi. These are the women we can’t have leading us, they’ve been followers of Donald Trump all along on what matters most to our Encyclopedia: the AIDS attack. Cold Warrior Jacqueline Onassis, who despised Martin Luther King, was a beneficiary of the Cold War living, like Nancy Reagan did, high on the hog in ten thousand dollar dresses. Enraged by the idea that they should have such dresses, but not her, Oprah Winfrey’s culture have proven themselves capable of stampeding civil rights to death on fraudulent race grounds. Salt Chunk Mary, to make ridiculous inroads in a pathetic Carnegie Mellon clique of jailbird lovers who were taunting a victim of torture and burning LSD poisoned girls in delerium’s arms gangrenous, announced support for the inflicting of brutal Frankenstein injuries in the name of defending Lennon drug culture by scorning a victim of it, a victim of slaughtering attacks whose support base were raped and civic defenders murdered. Her leader, Amanda Harcourt, claimed they are on a big dig for Warhol Foundation of snitch oil, which would be fine if they were, but they aren’t, the opposite. Clearly, Toyah Wilcox, has no business firing up her seance in the name of JFK. He wouldn’t have defended child pornographers who murdered him any more than Roberto Clemente would have justified the rape of deaf Jeannie, or castration of an American poet without trial based on extreme slander by interested and duplicitous exploiters bragging now of having lied to his face (and everyone else’s). A foolish consistency isn’t their hobgoblin, nor is it Scotland Yard’s.
Ironically all of this isn’t really up against much. The Karls used to learn me as a kid to call Lloyd Bridges’ television show, which was okay, known as Sea Hunt, as “pee hunt.” This is the sort of mis-education of non-parochial kids (when they get their hands on one of us) not only so typical of Catholics in Pittsburgh, though they have no trouble bribing the NAACP, that makes cyber-stalking dementia nothing less than their voice in the wilderness, announcing the agency of their conscience with the crystal ball wailing, “Whoo! Whoo!” at the shower curtains. Abortion, these tard-handed mountebanks claim, is the essence of conscience. When their lisping British Royal leadership announces the signifier of eternity in the number 64, we don’t really have the right to confidence that they even mean the grabbing of power by Kennedy’s killers, it may in fact be an obscure detail from 10 Downing’s Rm 40 chamber of secrecy dating to 1764. There’s no reason for confidence that it isn’t. The Fallacy of 64, is an idea rooted in Trojan warfare and harks back to incidents in Japanese history getting their jollies through Robert Fripp’s pusillanimous influence at Kinokuniya Bookstore.
Before the main incident of Inukia’s assassination in Japan that has many overtones of what Coppola, Reagan and Trump did to JFK and the rest of us, we have the era of Ieyasu. Putting Daimyo before kin, he ordered his son to suicide and gratuitously murdered his bride then current as an offering, and when Jack Ruby heard of these types of sacrifices in Japan, evidently speaking for Israel, he went wild for a piece of the action. If they would demand death as tribute, what does it take to cajole for some of the simpler services? This attitude has gotten holy cred from Hip Hop Nation. Midori Goto’s leadership is that of Phyllis Schafly in the form of a brutal dominatrix of child trafficking slavery mayhem, another woman whose involvement in politics we really do not need at all and thank God nothing personal. Not coincidentally, Ieyasu was the creator of the PITT of YAMMERING.
Enjoying molesting a white beyond all horror, the NAACP have held out for Biblical gains, violating my rights as well as U.S. Law and the public right to know that Kennedy spoke bravely, sincerely and regularly about during his abbreviated, but memorable term as our President, a leadership loss about which we now turn to Inukai. Inukai was killed but the people, while very shocked, endured, accepted, and braved, having been whipped up to opposition by the media before the slay, having his killers replace him on high and even be granted post-mortem tribute by Inukai in praise written when he had no idea what they’d been planning to get done. That’s the sort of program the women in the Democratic Party want enshrined. That is one of the many good reasons I am not making any renunciation of my rights and legacy. I am decidedly not honor bound to prove myself by allegiance to a forgery from London. When their cartel puts a chained book for sale, titled, “The Unfairest One of All,” they are evidently free to joke, because the rabid says their extremism on Mt. Desert Island was fake, doubly so, fantasy attacks, and we are to say so what then, for Canadian money is fake, too. If something is fake, it’s fake.
Under Federal, British and Union guidance 2020 is the year that Americans will cheer the execution of the Kennedys and the Fourth Estate will plead the Fifth. Clever Penis Gabriel, latter day Beaver Cleaver, still holds Midori Goto in his omojinary stockade for the Last Temptation.
The text of Karl snarls that “the dialectic is established at the outset.” It’s a strident dare, seconded by Mickey Obama as a Paratex agent sending her double intriguers to Community College of Allegheny County to inscribe their distinctive E. Elusively, while providing a gang for eidetic vision of the book Outsiders, the assassins also created in early educational background noise the representation they want unearthed for Lewis Lapham’s claim that America is his kind of experiment, as the leader of Harpers Magazine, our first periodical, but my name was here earlier. Using Donald Harper to lisp that I was unable to defend my black peers doesn’t explain my tears of suffering when they were harmed or my forgiveness when they literally slapped me, nor does it explain why the NAACP covered for child mutilationists. Charmingly, Martin Andelman, whose neighbor Cyril Wecht spoke to Oliver Stone, and no doubt Yoko Ono promoting his friend Leslie Katz while he was involved in a Wells Fargo takeover, moved in across the street from Saul Brecher where he regularly watched M.A.S.H. with a gang that included Alvar Gonzalez, who told me his family adopted Jaime Carbonell’s attache Andrea Swimmer, while Thos. Gordon avenged himself on me for repeating what he claimed was a line that Larry Lederer wasn’t going to be happy about hearing me having stolen, “Spare me, just spare me.” Andelman, I learned when he showed up, hadn’t really had his “jaw wired up by a Marine Sergeant”. I wonder why they said he had.
