The unprovoked, monotonous, devious violence of the schools I attend towards me have never been addressed before the law in a manner that could be considered respectable, although courts have made nuisance of themselves allowing these terrible acts. Against this situation I am making an effort to describe for the hard work of any new Kennedys for example who may come along and wonder about this that a landscape of a monopoly board on the American canvas describes how JFK was ensnared as a fly in the web of God’s spider. The Venus Fly Trap of the case was designed by human traffickers planning out execution over abortion with a smear about Playboy liberalism starring Marilyn Monroe. As part of the sickening tragedy facing the human race in 2018, it was planned as a Texas lesson by Jewish Holocaust survivors working with Reagan for a piece of the action in Axis America under Donald Trump, the long-planned beneficiary spokesperson. In announcement of this, a very serious student loan-related police crime took place in The State of Washington after I arrived here from Pittsburgh.
Their intent is absolutely to get away with the AIDS attack, don’t be fooled. America is anything but a bastion of freedom. Nobody, not one friend, not one administrator, not one amateur journalist has yet commented that the sadists behind this atrocity, and the personal level they are one, actually enjoy the daily outpouring of suffering they cause, and have caused for years. Trump more than any President yet, including Nixon with his Kent State, seems to be defined by a sideshow list of obliterations, like the murder of Molly in Iowa, the shooting at the Synagogue in Pittsburgh. It is as if in his sadist and weird craft of purging the witches by high science witchcraft drummed up by his partner Ian MacDonald, these incidents are like runes painted on a corpse of the body politic awaiting resurrection as one of his vampires.
Understanding the mind at work is harder for people who didn’t get hold of Lizard by King Crimson when they were ten in 1971. Why? Because the mentality and the times went together. Penis Sinfield crowed of the Beatles, “Let their Sargent mirror spin if we lose the barbers win.” What it came over as was that the Beatles were the type to point the finger at others to avoid being noticed for their misdeeds, spinning the mirror so to speak, and yet were still the anti-war good guys, meaning the crew cut brigade who would cut our hair and send up to Vietnam, yet, in reality, these evil losers are the nightmare weasels who won the war for the barbers, and so the mirror spun. They’re murderers they just get people killed that’s all they are. Don’t make spoiled babies something they aren’t.
A case could have been made that I was victimized for liking them and listening to them, but the Dakota had other plans primarily because that would have meant seeing me as equal before the law and that was out of the question. Sure of their power to make me a prisoner of slander, they relaxed in the role of pouting tycoons. Meanwhile, they took a man like Roberto Clemente prisoner, too, and to slanders as well. Roberto would not have gone along with his murderers and their plans the way Colin Powell uses his name to sell the plans of his killers. Scientifically the tall tale of Jimmy Crary’s jealousy and rage was out the window legally and factually the minute we found proof of the Wattenmaker neuroplasm, but the Proctors were invested in selling the war game. They tell it that Pittsburgh is a province of special deities who don’t take to outsiders, even Martin Luther King. It goes without saying that my father Ryland was such an outsider, he was only a WW2 Veteran. And of course to being a Pittsburgh insider, Roberto had to be killed and then have his name stolen by a fascist hate gang and misused to promote his killers, and that is where it stands. Wen was in the group who set up the Kelly School incident that Seattle black tribalists so openly don’t care about in drumming for the sadists of Wenzell Road who put together Mt. Desert Island snickering that they could make money slandering my name, ignoring the proof of planning in poison crime.
Behind this sick material enterprise was among others Gregory Karl of Pittsburgh Catholic to whom the Proctors are forever and always beholden, and Boris, I mean Barrack Obama, who loves nothing more than to gloat about Midori Goto supposedly humiliated me, if that’s what you call grandstanding on behalf of armed blindside assailants. Karl and Obama are both like little girls, “Daddy, he threatened me,” they say to Trump and giggle as the accused gets bashed out of court. Since their lies are unending and their violence ruthless and unpredictable, there’s always something to say, just as they like it.
The snake minds of women like Moonunit Zappa and Chelsea Clinton saw this as a way to make cheap gains in sophomore circuits. They construed abortion staying legal as somehow a victory in the AIDS attack. Examining me, the Hilltop clinic dentist called the poison crime put in my mouth by the very revealing comment a sign of my overall health. The simple truth is that America has been betrayed by a parochial Army of Axis type forces who used science for holy war. The State of Washington, who just lie, like it’s nothing, have a big dude in Bill Gates whose profoundly driven anti-American obsession with undercutting our specific honor like defying the law against living effigies on stamps, home invasion, contract prostitution, calling a neuroplasm by the name of a guilty conscience, protesting scurrilous invention and smear by actual rape, I mean, this state is weird, and they found their soul mate in Pennsylvania. Words have no effect. The useless of the written word came to bother Martha Gellhorn but if the history of this ever is written, the AIDS attackers won because Ringo Starr called Gellhorn a liar. She is the one who faced up to the issue and stated that she recognized in my appeal to her “a great sense of urgency.”
People liken the forces of Beatlemania to Shakespeare, and Penis Gabriel fits the role. Shakespeare was also the most brilliant of toadies. Pandering to King James he slyly voided from the Western literary canon a role for a man standing up to usurpers. Banquo was not exactly the perfect hero we need. We don’t need someone grabbing the wives of dead men they’ve killed either. We need someone to explain once and for all what these murdering motherfuckers really are, looming over us, like big Donald Finnegan did over me as a little boy, telling me I was a marked man.
Most people in the museum mafia gloating over robbing a deaf man of his life’s work, after purposefully deafening me so I couldn’t challenge their gods by talent of my own, realize that this draconian and evil war game is in large measure the sociological story of a illegal tape made of a neurological parrot tortured and held in scorn. Vince Eirene and Adrian Belew raided my pitiful condition and got lots of people killed because so many people were playing kill the man with the ball. In Pittsburgh, that province of the divine, having a father like mine was what Miles Kirshner calls, “the too-good principle.” Ichiro said it, too, the nail that sticks up gets hammered down. Well, poor Roberto, that stuck up.
