Pittsburgh had an incident at the corner of Penn and Negley Ave. in the mid-70’s that haunts that corner where a man that Migliosi called Shaky would shout at anyone who cross him, while selling newspapers from his stand, “I’m gonna split your head wide open.” At Babyland there across the street someone walked in and shot the clerk on duty dead. Across the street is a low cost apartment projects where Chin I, the girl raped to punish her for teaching me sign language, a Korean orphan, born deaf herself, once lived. I was also once lured there by a violent klan woman living with several Saudi Arabians when dating De De Mancine.
The biohazard put in my mouth by Duquesne in Seattle for the Green usurpers who snatched Clemente’s name as part of super-indexing for fraud the elevation of counterfeits to the level of a powerful Confederacy bring us to the full blown Fu Manchu style of British Prog Rock in their authorship of the AIDS attack with the conspiracy of Reagan, British Royalty and Obama. True to the text of that style the opening of the novel announces detective chagrin that a scholar with vital information returning to port had been found dead. Seattle is a hideaway for the Babyland mysterians.
Having a sense of what happened is not good enough to match wits because media has become a violent species of mind control and the brainwashing of the human heart, emotion control. Pitt and UW wanted to take a mind like mine, crush it, then fill it to the breaking point like pouring boiling oil on a pit of snakes, the suffering of the acid poured on my facial nerve. The AIDS attackers have been that deadly with super-arrogated dominion announced under nom de guerres like Trump and Wattenmaker.
The Pittsburgh NAACP promoted the storyline from WQED that I had not been tortured, which was criminally insane misleading and abuse of information. They openly conspired to partner up with a white Nazi on Mt. Desert Island named Zell proven to have had prior knowledge of the AIDS attack. He gave them a white to gnaw on as cow hooves, a theory of aggression management he demonstrated with his cow dog Duduraq. They never should have adopted the criminal platform of using me for a white hate object. They made pornography while calling it psychiatry. There’s an adage that history is written by the winners. It should be that history is written by the accurate, the fair. If we use a sliding scale, we should err on behalf of men like John Harlan, who wrote the dissent in Plessy vs. Ferguson, Elijah Lovejoy, who died as an abolitionist at the hands of a mob seething with riot against freedom of speech, or Martin Luther King. History isn’t written by the winners if fascism wins. Cold blooded lies are not history. That is why the Pittsburgh NAACP refused to acknowledge the intent to poison me with a nerve agent in violation of International Law. Thos. Gordon of Harvard, speaking for that locality, said it should be regarded under the scruples of what he called, “good druggy ethic.”
Youssou N’dour is part of the African Secret Service system who planted the Texas Schoolbook on my person while making sure I did not “come too too soon” for them, as his white master puts it on his records of bedlam come. Meanwhile, though the perpetrator and in a trust with Gail Burstyn, N’dour has tons of children, but his mob splattered the school with the fetus of the woman I loved, had Chin I raped, and me chemically castrated. Iowa Molly was assassinated as a namesake of my niece. The Fu Manchu style doesn’t stop there, but it is a mistake not to note that its origin were never the African Elders of Black Psychology that Zell allowed and WQED alleged. This business comes from a white man named Frank Herbert and is just received gibber for the crank mind of Cornell West. Both the idea of the gom jabber the crowing for biological linkage as a sacrificial soothing come from the pen of the man who described Soul Catcher as Katsuk, the killer of a very young, scared white boy to charm the spiritual plane. Seattle has failed to call an asshole by its name which is all Spike Lee is, a man howling around demanding bragging rights as lord of the flies in the mob scene he helped conjure as a race diversion during the AIDS attack. He got the picture on the wall of Sal’s he was demanding though in his film: Barack Obama. What a deal.
Throughout the entire thing that rabid animal Pener Gabriel has worked openly and without tears with the murderers who tortured me as a child, locked me out of a church when facing an armed mob scene, sacrificed my desire for a love and family to his war crimes, while promoting the insane yammer of N’dour’s Dracula doublespeak, flaming a neurotraumatic injury with a brain wave interrogator to allow Duke William a playstation that includes a brainwave sonar. It is so evil incarnate that the Christian wargasm maniacs manage it as a hooligan spree. But Brother Brooks who locked me out of a church and helped Penis Gabriel pull off the attack prostitution the NAACP used to justify partnership in the AIDS attack and grueling, evil, cowardly violence towards student dissent, wasn’t alone. For the double trouble they wanted double beats in the traumatized heart, someone who could kill off Richard Roehm for offering me alternative housing, and Christina’s brother, someone with the skill of Brother Broudy, the UW doctor whose father owned the drinking establishment outside Babyland that Mancine frequented with me held outside freezing in tears, hiding from the Pitmans in a telephone booth from which they would rip the phone.
So don’t be fooled next time a foreign English comes around braying it is Amnesty International. They mean to rule the sidewalks, control the airwaves and pimp your kids. The rest is just the usual Yojimbo drumming from the mythosphere.
