The minutes begin ticking when you have to address our situation in the here and now. To understand the problems our 80’s generation handed down to millennials and now Generation X necessitates looking over what is true about what Obama said concerning the election of Trump. Citing Martin Luther King’s book, “Where Do We Go From Here?” he evoked King’s wisdom that there have always been setbacks. Ask where were we when this setback happened and pick up where we left off.
The wheel of history in America twice turned most conspicuously to a major setback. After the Civil War between the States the defeated reasserted their power for the Industrial Revolution. After World War Two, the defeated reasserted their power for the Red Scare and Cold War. King’s rhetoric provides an eternal return, a cognitive function of rhetorical learning. The murder of Saoirse Kennedy was a what-you-say-now-dogeyes moment, but also a telltale dogeyes moment.
To understand this, recall that there are two lines of thinking regarding American performance in the war against the Axis. The revisionist line was an idea at the time that led Elijah Muhammed to resist the Draft. He saw it as the white man up to his usual tricks. Another point of view was anti-fascism. Isolationism and pro-German sentiment existed, just as black separatists often met with the Ku Klux Klan to discuss common ground. Journalists who hated Adolf Hitler didn’t have to answer UW Sociology in those days about the Indians, so I will try to speak for them, since I knew that generation well. A few ugly British Generals deliberately spread smallpox. For many white settlers the confiscation of land was more like the condition that led to the establishment of Israel. The potato blight killed millions of people by starvation, their lives strangulated by British control over their other food staples, just as the insect apocalypse seems doomed to do due to our insouciance and negligence. JFK’s introduction to a book about Native Americans made clear that he took remedy and address very deeply to heart.
Anti-fascist convictions announced that we would never stand for Hitler, not just because he proposed to victimize us, but because he opposed all that we had built and lived for in the search for meaning. True, there were forces for whom it was a grudging pragmatic duty after we were attacked.
Reagan always had contempt for America. His films made that crystal clear where he depicted his friend the Nazi traitor Errol Flynn as a hero, and ordinary Midwest men as too incompetent to even play the bugle. He loathed our women. His films depicted soldiers as fearfully slapstick, cornpone and stupid who answered his scorn with fawning and ingratiation.
In Seattle, and Generation X, the situation is one of locking horns with them due to their subservient venom to sharp intellects because British Fascists are very smart and furthermore they are worldly. Mass education, which could save us, is vying with pedestrians of mass brainwash. The educated are in a war of nerves and intellectual attrition with the brainwashed and Obama is a primary reason why we are losing. I’m going to try and make the football kick now, to help you see not only how Generation X has been manipulated and fooled by UW Sociology but also the degree to which Seattle has broken faith with the duty of the Republic, the primary issue of which is understanding what has happened. If I can get through these difficult issues, I can put into appropriate context some of the original clips from The Film Project which have never been exhibited before.
The overarching point I am making is that it was not just because it was us who were in danger, but because of what fascism means we stood up and said no. Believing that it was all just a convenience is what the Axis insinuated afterwards and through UW Sociology have sold this myth to cynicism and deplorable lack of faith. The death of JFK signified the turnstile from FDR’s anti-fascism and its legacy from Truman to Eisenhower, into the new era of UW Sociology where Saoirse Kennedy gets Lauren McCluskey’d by wise owls.
With the rebirth of new minds in each generation comes testosterone reborn. King Edward was forward looking to the day when men in L.A. would be licking at the boots of race queens. It is categorical folly to confuse transient desire in Our Commonwealth with proper interpretation of history. This mistake underwrites the mania behind the murder of Saoirse. Eleanor Roosevelt is no longer our pin-up girl.
The death of JFK was like the doors of a Brinks treasure truck flying open and money scattering everywhere into a crowd, little of the gettin’s got returned. LBJ and Ladybird helped themselves and were photographed within moments eagerly tromping on the carpets of Sack-ville with the reigning matriarchs of the NAACP. For the people who did it, the Oliver Stone film is just one of the souvenirs.
UW is a study in organized robotics on the level of brainwashing. Even though Japan and France were allies of the Axis in Vietnam, the assassins of Kennedy hold forth that they were fighting the good fight. D.W. Griffith, who saw Hollywood’s power emerge as the defeated re-asserted dominion after the Civil War (DG, sometimes coded 47), his cohorts, who invented the idea of using the burning cross for the KKK, which they adopted, made the wartime films of the traitors Flynn and Reagan; he saw the idea for shaping the reassertion of the Axis through the symbol of control of the film projector and realized that Japan could easily work this mission by the hidden hand of Hollywood even during the war, as we see clearly in their semiotics. See the history research paper establishing the foundation of this issue at HitlerReagan Semiotics (Easter Bunker) http://themepaper.webs.com
The Japanese were smart enough to use pantomime as an element of HitlerReagan semiotics. As a spymaster riddle between friends, the Beatles helped set us up with this sad souvenir shop mania of murder that claimed Saoirse for UW Sociology. Charles Bronson’s “Juliet,” if you would, in the flick, The Mechanic, is inherently inclusive of Jacqueline Onassis’ role, just as “chicken lick’n was lick’n chicken” for the PA mechanics of Leslie Park in Lawrenceville, veins poppin’ outta dere macho.
Let us turn now to three of the remaining undisclosed clips from the original Film Project now narrated with translations of the apparent gesture language and semiotic that alarmed me while in trauma care custody.
ZIT: https://youtu.be/W_HHWBA3_Jw
HIDE ONE: https://youtu.be/z-lVhKuLEtQ
HIDE TWO: https://youtu.be/iOLI9SaAj-s
Veronica Lake: Now you see it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8YCu_NCsd_U&t=10s
The original Film Project included these clips that had not yet been narrated for scholars. This was a good time to remedy this. The Axis did a crack job in finding Black agent dacoits and installations like Oprah Winfrey whose name implies that only wealth can break slavery, in short: a Trumptard, but a dangerous one.
The F.B.I cut a deal with Warhol and London to allow the murder of Saoirse Kennedy. The night before they issued a veiled injunction to the effect that if you try to do anything to describe your witness to the mayhem, which they pith be a settle-ance, you will be blamed. For the goblins responsible in Chinatown UW they see it as playin’ Injun. The reason this got done is that Seattle are intimate blow-re-posts of what they take to be a fantastic voyage into Masterpiece Theater. They suffer a cerebral defect of which Obama is an exemplar. They weren’t raised by the FDR generation of World War Two, and for the most part they’re happy being in the dark about Hollywood’s projection of pseudo-reality. In short, they are the slimy puppies of Sociology.
The military proficiency at work in the serial executions of the Kennedys exploits the paradox of Law Enforcement in a power structure of fascism, but equally it speaks to the legacy of incompetence and waste that characterized our foreign adventures after WW2, showing that these messes are in fact deliberate as a tool of those attacking America’s underbelly to discredit us before execution. Such surgical proficiency is deliberate deviancy that does not really exist with these loutish brilliants, who crown themselves geniuses. They are playing by a narrative designed to sucker the rabble, playing American sensibilities for a mega-stooge.
This agreement by the F.B.I. to appease the vultures that Yoko Ono and Michael Reagan assembled for the rise of King Brainwash Donald J. Trump through his friend Warhol’s machine is possible because the Kennedys have been boxed in and defeated by the language arts and poisonous tuttering of the hoodwink broker from Wimborne, Dorset, a pesky little termite and assassin. King Asshole’s ulterior bodyguard, this violent child-molester slanderously cooked the books notarizing the fraud of Lennon’s demise for King Edward’s secret franchise with Gen. Franco, Walt Disney and Chang Kai-Shek. They demand nameless graves in their faith. Because Pener Fripp won the crap game of images in the nuclear Vegas, a veritable geyser of deception that released pipelines of kill forces from Ultrahigh, priests of Billy Graham, daytime talk shows, Svengali beat detectives of psychological experiment learning, pussywhips and mind jesters galore, down to his favorites in Seattle, the ripper hatters, to whom he lisps the magic word, “abraca CUDDA” to the gnashing of orc shields and prancing by Filipino dacoitery, yammering of pussyball justice in a plague franken-heist.
My old classmate Ming Na Wen and Melvin Belli have a lot in common. They were Star Trek agents announcing their violence as promoters of sex racketeering in the name of Les Majeste, under the same administration of takeover control with Hermann Goering and Miles Kirshner as their common corpulents, and Gail Burstyn their special Jewish cause, a veritable Bonnie and Clyde, a primary opposing pair, bringing Yoko Ono the Kennedy heads on a platter she craves in return for her influence over Asian favors. While Ming was a paramour of Reagan, Belli was his loud Confederate, both were surely favorites of Spock’s friend, MisterRogers. The causus belli, the Roe vs. Wade in the Belly, the Hermann Melville journey into the Whale of Jonah with Jonas Salk labs, was their Burstyn script. Pener Warhol had invented oil, humongous oil, on the brain bursts of Kennedy’s struck, the acid witch ingredient of Warhol’s contemptible curriers.
As Bayer poisons the insects of the global village for Disney’s Royal Quest of multi-racial rivals hostile to America, but in charge on high, scorning noble gestures, silencing that AIDS was a weapon, and the reasonable public safety request not to spread the poison, Madame Chang’s forces leave another totally unprovoked gaping wound in the soul of Kennedy’s America. Warhol distrusts the lives and ideas of children, all of whom want to study Botany, just as they love to hear that stars are a sign of life occurring in a different dimension, instead the Warhols announce a domain of Gummo, the farce of totality in the idea that faith in Lennon is beyond mere Jesus, fixating on contagion and hatred as Gail Burstyn’s liberation of Lennon’s holy will. Like the blind fools for whom one atom bomb was not enough to halt their despicable craving for the behemoth, Seattle plays a farcical game of being soldiers of fortune-tellers where one word, any word, of which dissent might cause Moonunit Zappa to fall to the carpet gnawing with fury.
I have been a mostly straight A student in two community colleges, close to my second Associates, for five years. I am deaf, a senior and was in trauma care for a long time. My father was a WW2 veteran associated with the Peace Corps who knew Eisenhower at Teachers College and became Chair for Philosophy of Education at the University of Pittsburgh. I lived with my mother when I was attacked blindside and kidnapped in a horrible Mansonesque ordeal which left me deaf, with a shattered facial nerve and deranged with terror. We sold our house and moved to a Jewish holocaust survivor community. I knew a lot of Israelis in Pittsburgh.
Although I won a Pennsylvania Governors School for the Arts award for my poetry, which I continued to write even through a long, Hollywood harassment-induced homeless ordeal, and appeared in Cineaste Film Quarterly, things didn’t go very well for me with peers. A popular sex criminal dated me for a long time. She was a Valedictorian who was always making out with me nude but withheld her virginity from me, and I didn’t force the issue but I developed a phobia of how the taunting pained me. It turns out they had implanted a very throttling and painful neuroplastic head trauma, so I was often in tears and her friends derided me. Her Hollywood friends began doing things like pouring me a glass of milk and then quickly taking it away when I reached for it, like play acting a parable of Tantalas. As the production team behind this nastily taunted in The Mechanic, “chicken lick’n was lick’n chicken.”
Midori, the famous violinist heard about it, and got permission from administrators to contact the men who kidnapped and tortured me. They were following me and had names of girls who rejected me as a lover. She started a rumor that she was being forced by the Union to provide compensatory services. They attacked the girl who taught me sign language, Chini T., and raped her. They recently murdered Saoirse Kennedy and told me, “you paid with your heart.” These politics are in a society inundated with insect apocalypse stories. I’m sorry to add to the sadness.
As a prelude to their attack leaving me homeless, Ming Na Wen arranged a Disney Princess named Rosine Monteleone to become engaged to me. This was while Midori was at Duquesne University canvassing the murderers who kidnapped and tortured me as a child, through Warhol Museum. At first it looked like it might be a happy ending, but Rosa was on a mission-accomplished stunt for this crowd, intending to detonate the neuroplasm they had brutally impacted, never poison shy, which they knew I didn’t know was there, but which is now clearly visible, so they could tear-gas me in my home, accuse me of possessive envy and drive me into homelessness. Chini rescued me from homelessness and made school possible, but Rosa was still hard at work.
Her new husband, they made a point of marrying in the church where my father married his last bride, had friends in Seattle in advocacy services associated with deaf victims of abuse who lured me here under false pretenses of protection. When I got here, destitute and in something like seizures, they poisoned me more than once. One chemically castrated me, gave me diabetes and a later action poisoned me in the mouth leading to a prolonged gum infection, a midi-bug battle that I still have not won.
Further explorations of the symbolic mania of the assassins can be found in http://storychecksout.org