It’s not that I consider over thirty years of hard, thankless, unpaid work a formality. But I do feel there should be a record that someone tried to warn townsfolk, news outlets, museums, police, governors, peers, school administration, workers, politicians, any of whom could have forwarded my blog address, about the violation. Even after studying the Kennedys it was difficult to imagine that the brave United States could be so enlisted in a rush to betray. Because of the importance of other matters, and how cunningly it was initiated while they detonated a neuroplasm, I have said very little about brainwave sonar. The goal of this note is to remedy that oversight. The obvious idea, don’t mention something that will hammer a nail in a schizophrenia diagnosis plays a lesser role, although the destructive ability of the parochial adversary to use police science in the delusion that such a comment is a confession to voices is clear. The indications show that the longer I have waited the more solid the grounds for a broad assessment about our society revealed by the material on hand in Schizoid Man, a liet motif from the attackers, in Gail Burstyn’s comment about ESP signals, in Gabriel’s crowing about a world where we hear each other’s thought, cameo at NASA and worldwide slander campaign about me on the song That Voice Again. Brainbeams usually fall into the category of people who believe that the Challenger was lasered by the Pentagon in a demonstration, or that Chernobyl didn’t just happen. This is the key that snapped right out of my hand when the PIttsburgh Post-Gazette denied in headlines the existence of teleportation.
News is like that these days. Tulsi Gabbard got a taste of Clinton’s power when her media interrogator put on a face like, you gonna fuck with us, Tulsi? Who would have believed that the the United States, Pittsburgh and Seattle, would fall prone and panting to be taken at the grossest violation of Civil Rights actively possible and do it on the absurd, caustic, foreign, existential, legally amateurish grounds of the idea that an accusation that is ridiculous proves guilt because made by a rock star? Fripp’s friend Colin Powell could have Clarence Thomas out in the street in a heartbeat, donning a hood, prancing around like one of the nuns lapping holy water naked in a Ken Russell film, gesticulating, “THE WHITE! THE WHITE!” rather than issue the check their token of anti-Civil Rights attitude is due.
Addressing this issue isn’t just the cherry at the bottom of the tin roof sundae. I have for a long time been forced to act as my own Public Defender against: Child molesters in Pittsburgh, their Federal attaches in Pitt Administration, neurological vivisectionists from Israel in top science, dismal politicians, movie stars and ravenous rock music backstabbers, hireling ex-girlfriends, I mean okay, I can understand the bearded boys from the outskirts of Seattle be driven mad with greed at the sight of my impaling Rosa for her very first time right before their eyes on hidden camera, but the patriotic duty of a disenfranchised individual, despite wishful thinking, was the strong force behind how WQED argued the text of allowing me to be targeted in a pre-impacted head wound, to prove I would let go, no matter if it caused me seizures. They are the ones unable to turn it around. But who, after all, would side with a man whose own mother says the sort of things about him she do.
Being woken to voices saying, “no matter what you think you’re going to prison for a long time, Jim,” adds character to Vaclav Havel’s obsession with death, only rivaled by Hitler’s obsession with death, as terribly entertaining. He and the NAACP juiced to the notion of blocking family law by a signifier of the AIDS virus, a C in the Star of David, meaning hooligan execution for violating Prince Charles’ ideas about sex out of wedlock. The principle of Rotterdam is at work on exhibition, where Feminists found that LOVE was used to lure women into bondage and trafficking all over the world. LOVE was declared when Maximile Kolbe went to the gas chamber. Gail Burstyn PREACHED JOHN LENNON on every page of the Texas Schoolbook, right down to his photographs with Jimmy Savile.
Ruby had to cross the Rubicon for the wife-swap in Why Not Swop as did Hitler, getting to pull the puppet show strings, with his out-Aryan friends at Ian Company. I saw a recent film online called Hitler’s Hollywood that very clearly shows that disrupting or even destroying the earth’s ecology would be an attempt for his revenge. Ecocide as a nihilist gesture. Dia of Der Mond wrote me a letter or made a phone call once about a contact with a man at the Governors School who wore a tee-shirt reading MAD ARTIST, quoting him darkly as saying, “How soon they forget.”
The register change in the VOX BOX goes from a voice for Gabriel wailing, “I can’t believe I murdered somebody this way, I can’t believe I murdered somebody this way,” to “I wish we didn’t have to do this to somebody. I wish we didn’t have to do this to somebody.” It’s sort of like looking for the meaning of the Nature of Reality with the help of Pittsburgh’s (EIN) Electronic Information Network (EIN) from German H.Q. at ACR, CMU.
