ADWAS brought me here to Seattle from Pittsburgh in 2001, Ichiro’s Rookie Year when after all my struggle to get help my sign language advocate and best friend was raped.  Even then it was hard for them to focus on the idea of selective targeting in a furious, illegal cult at work on a crusade.  To transform this horrible act, the rape of a deaf orphan with epilepsy and Downs Syndrome into courageous knighthood, the attackers behind the AIDS abomination lisped, but we didn’t give her it, ah.  They hoedown’d to the penny of a Burmese harp by the execution of Shannon Harps to consecrate their claim of a threat. Viva, the arcana of Gurdjieff school’s mathematical ingenuity.  Police?  Oh, my yes, oh, forbidden to attend Seattle Central by them for trying to save her life. Of all the ironies, four more Kennedys, my Ron, cope!

      The FBI agrees with King Crimson, a verminous trick that gives sadistic satisfaction to the victims on behalf of the aggressor is better than the truth.  This is the story of how Penis Gabriel brutally stamped a lawless and childish rap sheet over the face of an unconscious child kidnapping hostage in an Anglo-Asian projekct of sociological guilt in the Hiroshima bombing as all the revenge evidence from Reagan cinema shows.  Since they can’t discredit me, they kill and rape my loved ones, instead.

          It might have dawned on someone in Seattle when their victory cheers were flattened on 911 the Japanese angle to the meaning this brought home from the Zappa klan, a pirate tyrannical dogma of the underworld, but you all love it, don’t you.   ADWAS was busy conscientiously understanding the evidence proving AIDS pre-planned while pouting that there was nothing they wanted to do about it except carp at me that being smart isn’t the same as accomplishing a diploma.   ADWAS probably elliptically signifies something about their strategic war game.   While we buy time to deal with the bonus attack, you might want to recall how Seattle and Pittsburgh bought time for it to be done.  Ironically, the public trust who were also advised, sneering at the horrid mutilation of a child, now find their own homes virtually demolished by the bonus attack.    To finalize the stroke of infinite perversion, Bob Dylan got the culture he betrayed to cheer a garbage song about the opening sacrificial act in Dallas.   Woody Allen still has his money on the meaninglessness of the entire venture.  What’s Up, Tiger Go/to?  You’ll never reach the mindset graven in Seattle.  They’d rather be dead than admit the absurdity of what they did.  You mustn’t question the enemy but worst of all is to question the mutilation of an American child.   Therefore you must laugh at, mock, abuse and cheer.   Why?  Because the cultural elite says so.  Therefore, they reason, the bonus attack is friendly fire.  Myuh, myuh.

         Poets there, here, what have you, actually call the cold-blooded genocide of a huge public sector, many of them elderly a zombie apocalypse.   The resentment is so deviant and lurid that you cannot help but wonder what they hate so much worse than themselves?   They must shiver with some form of puerile ecstasy as they trigger their own mindlessness gnashing with excuses.    It is an offense they cannot endure to suggest self-review.   The bonus attack did, actually, amazingly, preposterously elicit from a virtual swami of the poetry circuit the inane pout that the situation is very bad.   Wow.  Something got through to one of them, at least almost.