The enigma of my generation in the newspaper establishment is the conviction their job is to turn honesty, even telling the truth, into a disadvantage and a lethal poison. Pittsburgh under Nixon was so rancid that the entire city writhes at being reminded and their omerta against mentioning it comes with an adage from Herman Hesse: kill the man who won’t let you forget. The mutilated statue erected in broad daylight stands as a reminder that even with eyes to see they refuse, and if you call that darkness you risk being blinded. It is the Statue of Illiberty, an enigma of fraud so determined to prevail it announces falsehood as a form of holy war. To live through something that shocking is maddening. It isn’t normally associated with the United States that a writer will be tortured, serially dismembered, poisoned, his associates raped, ripper murder performed as a ghoulish warning by members of the newspaper union itself for reporting against the idea that the civil rights of a child are forfeit to: the amazing days of World War One when tens of thousands rushed to their deaths in a day, the cruelties of the gas chambers of old, the mindlessness of Seattle processing (through Microsoft emotional robotics) the weeping of the AIDS betrayed, and swimming as though a rude fish out of water, what’s this, the issue of Yemen? Half smothered in global warming and the pouting tutter of foreign English eccentricity enthralled with themselves for pulling it off through Warhol Museum.
How much did the school make on the sly on those child pornography films Ringo? Hey that’s money, man, Trump says it’s Justified! Justified! Richard brought in a rouge O for the final copy of Mellon Bank and they was going wild at Forbes. One certain conclusion any idiot with a head left can form in their vague conceptionings from what sickiopaths like Genesis pulled in the trick of the AIDS tail is that when foreign English lisp the word peace: RUN FOR IT!
From Pittsburgh to Seattle is really a great big barbed wire fence isn’t it? What the rabid at University of Washington had in mind in co-authoring a University fatality is fairly simple to explain. What they said and what it meant of course are very, very different. They said it was to signal resentment against the pale, white, Neoliberal, privileged, sheltered, whimpering, essentialized, effete, overly appointed deaf thing who we know what it really wants. And that seemed believable, that got the response, ran the show, made the grade, pleased the cattle, got the students out to cheer, but that’s not what really happened, what really happened was they put on a very disturbed show to cover for the role of the Green Party in the execution and planning of the AIDS attack and how Obama was uploaded through the forces of Trump at Geffen and Carnegie Mellon. The NAACP were in on the attack all along, why should they, the good kind, the God-fearing, have life restricted by over-populating immorals? They helped set up the kill and announced that they had reasons! Reasons! Like them creepy psychiatric filth films they called moral research, get, get, get, get in there queerbait. Show us your dharma!
A crime this horrible is never going to turn around, but I have learned the method these callow, evil, ingenerous people have counted on all along, back from the time when the British helped set up JFK in Dallas, and then pulled off, for Yoko Ono, the idea that the real victims of the 60’s were the Reagans to whom the people they battered now owe their lives. I will explain through the lens of the tragic story of what Humphrey Bogart once said didn’t amount to a hill of beans, the problems of two people, in fact, two Pittsburgh deaf people.
I walked into a University area record store when I was ten years old with my sister and the cashiers were laughing and saying look at the kid, he’s gonna buy some Michael Jackson and their jaws dropped when I came forward with King Crimson Lizard. Made big sister laugh back. I had really liked their first two albums but nothing prepared me for how beautiful Bolero: The Peacock’s Tale is, a song that continues to haunt me, being the horrible goblin voice of their papi-killing Secret Service. They didn’t take any chances with me either, informed by Plato to watch out for changes in the form of music they made sure by deafening me. They slandered up my name just awful. They paid hookers to lie. They got out the riff raff from the buzzard garages. They hired attorneys to sigh that worse things had happened. And the music is still very beautiful, like those hideous Genghis Khan songs of the Beatles about killing JFK, storming what their gurus call our emotional centers for the Artificial Intelligence of dacoits like Colin Powell’s gang, for whom the feminine shrieks of old Dick Nixon about Vietnam were God’s word. It is very hard to live with the violence to the mind of the outstretched glove from the poison hand Royalist. Joy Chant had a book: Red Moon on Black Mountain, in which Satan himself rises in the end and she gasps at how handsome and beautiful he is, saying she expected anything but this. When it comes to foreign English: Expect Orwell. Never bite the hand that feeds you poison. Power has a way of subjugating hope with the tonic of remorseless but credible false promises, and the soothsay of the spinster genius for jazz classic fusion.
Which does bring us to Yemen. Boston Red Sox are coming opening day to Seattle, which also does bring us to Yemen. I’m writing this on Superbowl Sunday which does bring us to Yemen. Terri’s 14 Carrot Cafe opened in 1992 on Eastlake in Seattle a little ways down from where the abused deaf advocates used to be which does also bring us to Yemen. Who but UW could come up with Operation: Hehn, Just Hehn, well-luh okay fella, we’ll just bout care bout that Yemen, and you can give your pint of tears in their fest. Reading UW’s lies is awful. The pedestrian garble you find in Middle East Readers has the same aspect. They don’t even bother trying to make sense. They are camouflaged in their disorder by the sufficiently obscure. It is their intellectual heritage to be so profound in their cold blooded lies and backstabs that nobody notices or bothers to ask why they are leaving so much out. 14 Carrot Cafe popped up to the tune of the NEVA Corporation’s child sex tapes made at Warhol after they just happened to know exactly where to look, but Midori’s Teriyaki and Greg’s Foreign Auto didn’t. They were already there. Which brings us to Yemen.
Dia they call their guru, who called me portentously years before the AIDS attack to let me know they were thinking of me when Lennon disappeared. How interesting that those who were behind the 911 attack UW also insists are the proper loyalty. The deranged Queers of UW and their conscripts on Capitol Hill, slaves of CMU and New York moneybags, cannot conceptualize a single thing about this world that isn’t a sophomoric rivalry over folk legend status and they resort to murder when as rivals they feel thwarted.
