The University system of the United States is teaching around the AIDS attack. It doesn’t escape mention, but observes the Obama discourse, which is to treat it as a fact of nature, redeemed by American medical socialization. Muslims were, in some cases, perhaps grudgingly, always the formalist allies of the AIDS combine  which Englishmen counted on when promoting obscure Hindu riffs and Sufism in their interludes between fascist heavy metal occult rock songs on the discs, in a music system always controlled by love song potentates. Nobody does more to illuminate the Orwellian nightmare, by refusal to name it, than Anouar Majid’s refusal to unmask the crime in his book, Unveiling Traditions, an eloquent and eerily believable humanist call for reform era identity politics, an enemy tract because no hope, no idealism, no reform is possible without AIDS Nuremberg.  Instead, Majid, evoking the Cotton Mather of the business, Michel Foucault, sprinkles the vespers of learning over the horrible cruelty and deceit of that Caligula Paul McCartney, who we refer to henceforward as Sir Shah, using the victims as shamelessly as Nixon used the Kurds.

       Technically, a Muslim le femme, She’s Gotta Have It Nikita could announce herself for Spike ole Lee, always friendly to Trump, as for the Walrus farce of Warhol, as in who’s an infidel, now, dogeyes?   The usual routine of co-punishment was worked out between Seattle dogmatists in the Unions, drug mafias, rock system promoters, museums, cults of consciousness at the schools and in the V.A. for the alliance between the parties that are stakeholders in the campaign of destruction concerning the objective facts of American history.  The personality culture at work in the criminal confederacy that controls our newspaper establishment depradate shamelessly on someone they tortured for special effects rendering. For reasons I have never been able to grasp, former peers in Seattle and Pittsburgh are slavish devotees of those who poison gassed them. I assume this is because they depend on such rulers for social advancement at school.  But inasmuch as this is about college curriculum, sociology and history, what about the AIDS attack?

      One of the mercenaries working intimately with this confederacy during the MK-Ultra era of rock music’s British Invasion, which drew heavily upon British Opium War experience, was King Crimson’s Robert Fripp.  When Fripp’s agency targets you they insinuate themselves into every detail of your life, no public space is shared, instead it is reduced to a contest of wills and a constant shakedown. The infamous invasion of privacy ruthlessly promoted as African tribalism, by the mafia in child pornography at Warhol at my school in Pittsburgh is disregarded for crime as demented provincialism.   They acted like Ralph Bashki’s cartoons, panting and lewdly drooling at me when I became engaged. Instead of trying to perform civics of recovery, adjustment and promote Honors and dignity for the disenfranchised, traumatized, near deaf man who had faith in them, they built, with Seattle’s invasion forces from Warhol, an induction into a mafia they call sociology as powerful Orwellian fever.  You would have thought they were finished murdering Kennedys.

        One of the reasons Saoirse’s demise is such a long shadow from Massachusetts to the realm of Inslee in State of Washington, is that while I know it was enough to make a psycho vomit, we don’t know what UW Medicine actually put in my mouth to lead to such a prolonged battle with plaque and squeegy sounds in my ear.  It is possible that they are out to poison my brain, and cause an abscess which I call shithead theory for the many times their haters raged at me with that epithet or similar ones. Penis Gabriel is a monster of shamanism who elected me, after purposefully inducing sadistic dementia through child abuse monstrosities, as the sacred mind of America, in a prank of chauvinist parochialism, dubbing himself the warlock of ideation fulfillment that arrives like the Kurosawa imaginary bike pilot hotrod in the junkyards of Dodeskaden, making things real from the Hollywood backdoor through which the Axis re-entered at the fallout bunker sign at Dallas Police Department.  It’s an unmined field of academia, the pretzel psychologistics of Pentagon-Disney, fact and fiction, dreams and reality, double suicide fantasies in a landscape of incubated encryption.

      Trump is the man who likes to make people he dislikes pay for things that he really does.  The early stages of punishment, recall that King Edward visited Japan three years before announcing that Hollywood was a function of the Church of England, took the form of sexual indoctrination by knock out blows in the safehouse of a snow den run by a Donald whose pedophilia and deranged abuse of a child hostage was downplayed by Santorum, protecting Trump’s friend Warhol, by the squelch of choice: stigma towards liberal dissent.   College students don’t know everything. They aren’t rightly to be conceived of as agents of a sacred psychopath to use for Eno monopoly of TheoryLand. Many plotters en-culturate students to issues of truth as a form of catering to their modes of resistance, as though knowledge has knocked the walls of authoritarian domain down, one by one, but it is in reality a learning sequence from the bedlam of Jack Ruby, Mick Jagger, and others who playact Hitler Nuns while promoting bondage.    

      The process of permanent induction to a slave circuit of sociology began with seduction by De De Mancine, Neva’s sister, while the Pitmans gassed me in Kings Estate among other true horrors of the province.   De De Mancine instructed me that Mafia meant my daughter (fia) in Italian, an item that allowed Martin Sheen to send in a mesmer to TACID (DT/CIA), after Saoirse died, as a form of taking landslide credit for the Sheen Taliban.  The babylanders have a cardiologist here whose pencilboy style probably is behind the electrical dysfunction that leaves me wobbly, hyper-hydrosis of stamina, and obviously no longer an all-night dancer.   In this mockery are crocodile tears from NWAsianWeekly about Donnie Chin, obviously a pawn move of their own crowd control to give them horns for the attack on Saoirse, a normal pattern in the boom-boom Yojimbo militia masquerades I have reported time and again.  The target is our legal normalities. They may have even lasered Biden in the eye. They like to brag of being “highly contemptuous of the whole thing,” (Eisenstat).

         True acts of evil by Sheen’s street secret police pursued me for years homeless as I suffered from impacted neuroplasia and tried to keep out of student debt.   The leeching at my victimization by the NAACP is given all sorts of sadistic appearance as the good fight as though these so-called sociologists can’t recognize the contempt for the poor in their collectivization of inhuman misery.   What else could it have been but a plot by the elite? These are highball rollers. The cultural zone of Tojo shifted to the movie lots for a while with films like D.A.M. (Destroy All Monsters) but emerged intact through Blue House killings, the massacre of Shannon Harps and the pyre from the porno giants in the name of Roberto Clemente and Jimi Hendrix, as Lennon made his landstake in the 47 ronin.   The task force was in play to teach about Chernukha cinema and lead the crowd full circle to self-reproach over abortion while granting divine missionary status to The Rolling Stones.