Media regards me as a man humiliated by valid suspicions that proved untrue.   Meanwhile, I tried to warn people what all this really means. Not that it is okay, nobody enjoys being forced to deal with the criminally insane.   An objective reader would gasp that the police and media got away with a crime this horrible and huge, even just looking at what was done to me and wonder aloud how it was possible.   A Carnegie Mellon detective once said, “It’s not something you hear everyday.” Puzzles take hard work to straighten out, and lose readers along the ways, the government answers by generating robo-challenges to keep stahling.   The saddest part of course is that in selling an angle that allows them to commit rape and torture, they are using a literal stand-in for the President of the United States for a voodoo doll of serial mutilation, that is the essence of why they kidnapped me in a stolen Lincoln as a child, gave me 1984 as the first digits of my Social Security Number, called me their chosen brother because my father was on Bush’s ship in the Navy, at Teachers College with Eisenhower and my birth date six months to the day from Hitler’s, not to mention the name Jimmy C., that plays out to the iambic pentameter of John Fitzgerald Kennedy in James MacRyland Crary, and the warlocks behind this game from the Maryland beltway who added the C to Maryland for the game are none other than the murderers behind Kennedy’s death telling their version for handsome profits in London.   No one likes losing their life’s work to vermin who brutally tortured them and raped their only friend, but it’s the only way I can try to warn Our Commonwealth who, unfortunately, have decided to leave it all to Media to tell them what is true and what is illusion, just like what they did when Oswald Mosley’s gang struck in Dallas. It’s clever and important, but they complicate it away from public consumption by detail mongering for joy dissection. The vomit bag arsonist behind the mayhem is too base to name in a paragraph this distinguished. We’ll get to that puke. For now, just smother the unknown persona in mysterianism.

       Most people seem very grateful not to have been told the truth about the AIDS attack, they have a control button that blurts, wacko selling BS when they see that turn of phrase.   On the subject of JFK, a percentage of intellectuals are bemused by the data and debatables at issue. The gory sum of the painting left in our legacy by Allen Dulles is shamelessly brazen, but as he predicted almost no one knows, even spelled out in broad daylight.  He was a veteran spy for the Germans in WW2 who pulled a fast one on Eisenhower so black it is a hole in the world. As one of this madman’s weasels puts it to those who bother, “to realize and suffer is the penalty.”

       Mae Brussels, if you don’t know, what something of an artist when it came to history.   She contributes more than most to our understanding of the detailed relationships at work in Dallas that sad Autumn for America.   It’s information, not at all heartening. She describes the chateau’s given by Dulles to Germans he saved from Nuremberg and gave disguises.  She takes us through the phone calls to Germany made by General Walker, and the members of Reagan’s staff who shooed Marina Oswald through customs, brings out many details.  Perversely, although she makes more noise about her own name than her topic of Fascism in America, and grandstands on the claim that Lennon money was behind her, it’s very curious that she doesn’t take up the cries from Lennon’s establishment that Reagan was his friend and partner.  She says something close to the opposite, but is careful to shy off from the authenticity she brings to the table about JFK. She is, after all, setting up the sale for Yoko Ono. So the obvious question about Mae Brussell is was she a partner of Gail Burstyn, too?

       If that’s all there was to it, I wouldn’t take up my pen, because any nerd can see the arrangement and ask the question.   Lennon was promoting the woman he was counting on to make the sale when he pulled his moves. He clearly saw keenly how the truth worked when it came to America and that what he and Trump did would be cheered in the end, Lennon had helped Pentagon Disney nurture Democracy through a manmade plague.   Blacks are conscientiously plastic about such matters, if it helps them, it’s the truth, if it doesn’t, it’s a theory and better keep its mouth shut, fore something ain’t kosher starts growing in there, dig? But there is more to note. For example, Mae Brussels darkly aims a whammy at the CIA in pouting that they jammed up the phrase “conspiracy theory” as a special diagnosis when they needed to refute Kennedy assassination claims, why Oswald worked for Jagger, which is a fact of history, and so on.   Yet the rabid, the Lennon menagerie, were far more spiteful when it came to making mockery of people trying to be rational. They barked snidely about klus. For a violent songwriter about peace whose every irrational phrase or utterance is a Hadith for hordes of ravenous groupies, he never repeated one historical fact from Mae Brussel’s brilliant expose of General Walker.

          The rabid lay in wait, lying.   Howling that NEVA Corporation was a collection agency called RITA, they brought in Evangelia Karmas to stake out the rape of deaf Chin I.  Brussels says that if you want to know who perpetrated a crime follow the destruction of evidence. That’s true and it leads to Penis Gabriel, the raping pig who to this day is gunning down anyone with access to the truth about the brutal neuroplasm they implanted in defense of Ruth Paine’s contact in Woods Hole.  Also dreadfully, their mission house Amnesty International, a pervert central that never returns calls, are ripper hatter filth who use their offices for crimes as dark and deadly and mean and ever-lasting in infamy as Unit 731.

You have to understand how perfectly logical it is for them when Obama turns on the charm. By surrounding Kennedy with the vespers that he was the traitorous liberal, the assassins very coyly adopted Roberto Clemente’s name and said, so therefore, come on, come on, of course, Roberto would give his BLESSING to the rape of a Pittsburgh deaf girl, of course! Big hand for Rosa, shall we?