The Trump Illuminati, blindingly dim, made their gold like the notorious Soapy Smith in the Klondike rush of Alaska.   They barbarously clubbed me to death blindside and stole my life for a show of power that left them amused at the expedient utility of atrocity in entertainment affairs.  His sidekick in media blackout, the we donohue Sir McCartney, played his game to the fulfillment of a plan they called Love.

      Two Virgins Pussyball, the American Medical Association’s political war game clocked to the AIDS attack, had a vicious, spiteful outcome after using me to pleasure the revenge artist Midori Goto, who used me for a dummy after her dacoits administered a knockout poison, and they have vowed to murder any attempt to stop their plot by legal affidavit.   The outcome, surprise, surprise, is forgiveness for the cruelty and slaughtering maliciousness of the brutal British attack.

          The game of Two Virgins Pussyball forgiveness klan triumph is the opposite of AIDS Nuremberg.  It means all the child molesting pornographers wearing the mask of psychiatry get to fulfill the heist and walk away laughing, having even made their other victims in screaming looters.  It is the fulfillment of that sickening lout Paul McCartney’s privately iron cross view that the at-risk in the 80’s were trying to upstage him.

        GB, Gail Burstyn, there is good reason to conclude was initialled for Great Britain, and was their agent.  The killers used all sorts of encryption. They told me to buy a Larry Thiel (pronounced tea-ill) mouthpiece for my sax, Arnie Sacnusum’d LT.  They used every manner of nom de guerre, their dacoits were named Ronnie and Kasper just like Reagan and Weinberger, whose attorneys from FEMA were also with Pentagon Disney and provided the cruel mockery of their object lesson in the Kennedy curse.  They sponsored Mary Ellen Tunney (a sadistic human trafficker casing me in a bid for a ton of money-Tunney, get it?) and Warhol’s friend Amilda Tuttle, providing the disgusting justification for black rioting on behalf of the AIDS attackers in the form of a disqualifying political expedient for Obama, what they called a Louie Louie adultery, nevermind the specific and exact moral code identifying the Hitlers for their objectives and crime farm.

          They used AFC electronics and Radio Shack for the radio set up in the shack where they held me in bondage as a child forcibly prevented from attending school and threatened to burn it down over my screams.  Screams and screams and screams. For nothing will the madmen stop. For nothing.

      And none of what they said were ever true.  Lie after lie after lie, lie after lie after cowardly, cowardly, cowardly lie.   That’s all the Beatles are, lie after lie after lie after lie after lie, murdering, child raping faceliars.  Lie after lie after lie. The bloodshed their dishonor provoked meant nothing to the dotards. Their rape frame was in reality a protest against their turbo-charged neurological taunting of a convulsive frankenstein remote they impacted for detonation.

And they got away with it. We’re supposed to cheer