Worse than Bill Cosby is the discovery that the Beatles are behind the AIDS attack and the motherfuckers are going to get away with it despite the smoldering trail of smoking guns, they were elected popularly in the form of their Dennis the Menace maniac Donald Trump. Let’s go over a few of the smoking guns before moving the murders being committed by Axis America at the University of Washington by powerful faculty and administration with support at Pitt and Carnegie Mellon. They have scrawled their felony signature on my face through serial poison crime authored by those who forged my name with consent of the Federal Government. Queer Seattle, dark with hypocrisy, allowed the instrument they claimed to protest, stigma, to be used as a grindstone for mass murder, parched with love slavery and sadism inspired by Warhol. They leer that the script is worth big money.
When Steve Tangney of Sound Mental Health and UW Medicine put an unidentified bio-hazardous bacteria in the mouth of a man they had brutally deafened and chemically castrated, they committed an atrocity of a very new order. It was also deviantly personal by murderers who spit in your face by crowing that they love you. The crime was, in their minds, avenging my securing an investigation of an unidentified registered nurse who chemically castrated me for a rival in Pittsburgh linked to the murder of Tupac Shakur. There’s no surprise that despite being responsible Rosa Clemente and Aaron Dixon are switcheroo’ing with the blame. All this is big punishment for trying to hold my head up in Pittsburgh as serial hate criminals blackened my name with evil lies.
Sickos who have read me before will pout at something being repeated for those they prefer be kept in the dark, but Duvall of the Community of Allegheny County, a black man who helped run the operation there for Dixon, said, “I know George Bush started AIDS and I support him for it.” Look at the gibberish of these foxes, playing indignation for the victims to wear their horns proudly. Lurking behind them the ever honed backblade of the foreign English, raping and bombing in mass terror incidents from the London Office of Amnesty International, how divine. They screeched that they wanted my language and wanted me diseased. Police said, hehn, just hehn.
The murderers keep hammering the case of Andrea Swimmer who loathsomely forced herself on me and for whom I tried to find someone else. I refused to take her back to the pig sty her father had created where she got her IUD and asked her just to stay with me at my mother’s until we found help for her. I had been tortured. The sex was her insistence. Surrounded by grown men who were her lovers, she singled me out for terrifying abuses and drove off with her ward when they found me stumbling and battered from brutal assassinesque beatings in the night by unknown men. The pedophiles at the FBI never tire of using her lies for blackmail so that Michael Reagan can hear his favorite scene again.
Contrary to David Geffen and Robert Fripp, that Tive, in their evil spin digest, being promoted as a hate object by the brilliants of Royal learning in the Beatles doesn’t make me someone who causes inexplicable hate by unjustified pain as they winced in defense of King Edward and HitlerReagan during evil hour. They poisoned me in the brain and extruded their sickening soundtrack from a hostage childhood for Zappa’s Saul-man in a rush to die, the infamous tortured slogan, “Yeah sure, Pete tied her up and porked her with a carrot,” dreamed up by Wichita for Oswald the Rabbit of the Neva Confederacy.
They had an agent named Phindile for Donald Finnegan’s deal of collecting back from the Midori starlet for services rendered to queerbait in pussyball. They had a murderer name Dusseldorf, the city where Quarrymen, the original names for the Beatles found the first Neanderthal with De De of Willendorf in tow for Lewis Lapham, tinkling little bells like Sharon Samuels and Gail Burstyn for the deaf golem, let them do all the playing. State of Washington confiscated my fiance and shot up Tupac Shakur to made hay on the extrusion of notes from me as a deaf boyfriend by the lurking co-workers of the NAACP who turned on me for trying to defend the anti-apartheid movement thus upstaging the big dacoits in Seattle. They didn’t mind serving I don kno hue, since pap was in the way, too.
They used Kasper as a fluxus bull repost in higher shiemish of Billy Graham’s nostrum that Weezo can even save Weezler. Neat. Not even Hitler is more powerful, back by Disney, Inc. Neat. They are the Walrus! Even Hitler! Not EVEN Hitler, they AH hidell’d on Dec. 7 scrawling, “figure that one out”.
Larger than life, like Arab Spring, they bring hope to the downtrodden with the effervescences of Nintendo’s beloved King Crimson, lying back and fooling the deteriorating defsukke white deceiver, hee hee hee hee hee hee.
