One new question is whether Genesis acid rock lyrics purposefully co-indexed the Burstyn letters as yet another taunt concerning the masquerade of found art.   How anyone could miss that the Spirit Foundation was set up in advance makes clear the appeal to mass approval. Elizabeth Blumenfeld, whose circle of friends were the Burstyns themselves, was noteworthy for wearing the same perfume that Gabriel enjoys.   She was breaking up with me when Selling England by the Pound came out. The Royalist hums, “Can you tell me where my country lies?” Then it mis-attributes its propensity for cold blooded facelies to what he identifies suspiciously as “The Queen of Maybe,” an insidious sexual imposter who brings about the sneer of the sniveller and hiss of the press by being made an infidel by a Royalist dame protection racket.  The double entendre in Selling England by the Pound is their rapist proclivity to call making love a pounding. Therefore, the message of Selling England by the Pound is selling rabies by the Neva Corporation, an exact amalgam of the Burstyn code about which he knew everything, while professing lies to be sacred.

     Corruption of the psychological files were necessary because the murderers needed the persona of Jimmy Crary for their sale.   Political leaders do not care about culture, except in so far as the subcultural lieutenants can use people for the advantage of the Crown.   People should not protect themselves by preying upon innocent others. I dislike trying to understand women, but normalizing the terrorist entrapment ring as an act of feminist supremacy overlooks every detail that shows it arranged in complement to the AIDS catastrophe in advance.    For me, this generational misadventure is a mad ring of student warriors prowling invalid credentials in search of discrediting the only person standing up to the ruse.

      The current shutdown of government is really just manifest.  The government was shutdown and co-opted into a counterfeit ages ago.   The klan used to say that stateways can’t change folkways and now the NAACP say it, too.   Americans don’t like being told anything about themselves, so you have to keep mum when their ideas are beneath contempt, or they’ll shout them even louder.    Everyone in Pittsburgh seems to have known that Jimmy Crary was Neva’s sister’s cherry boy in a prowl by cop-onomics, leaving a host of deposits repository with the cold case time capsule of a laughing box and Pandora’s snipe, “Solve the Riddle, Sherlock.”