Trump and the generation he has influenced are not unlike an Interview with Hitler.  Hitler sits politely, his hands folded on his lap, when offered a chance to introduce himself he says with a tone of admonishment, astonishment and concern, “May I ask the first question?  Why did you attack me? I loved you. Everything I was doing was being done for you.” The voices from the audience, even some black folk, holler, “We know that Uncle Adolf. We didn’t want to fight you, the Japanese attacked us, they forced us to.”  Adolf smiles and nods his head forward once, then cocks his head for a question. “We’ve changed,” he says.

         The truth is strange.  In the 1950’s, particularly in Germany, cinema practiced a concerted effort to convey the moral issues of life and death involved in the confrontation with the Third Reich.  Adolf interrupts, “but if you feel that way, why don’t you just die? I’m sure that your Creator or whatever you believe in would approve of that more, in the name of non-violence, than bothering me who just disagrees with you about the right to life that so forcefully demands health, manhood and the crushing of weakness in the name of John Lennon.”

       In the 1980’s I worked at Falk Medical Library in University of Pittsburgh.  Were the Administration or the Katz Family (a case crosshatched by Warhol in their campaign to call me negligent in the script about Lennon) concerned about me or the safety of their daughter whose desertion had left me bereaved, I was making book deliveries to the psychiatric hospital everyday.  Anyone, nurse or doctor, could have engaged me in a conversation about that or appealed to me to seek counseling. The truth is strange. The accusers actually wrote the script. They are and were powerful X-perimenters talking in their private writings about X-amples illustrating that I was secretly THE Evidence for why there had to be an AIDS X-termination, and without telling me their plans, they lured me to Mt. Desert Island, which they later covered by lying about Leslie, saying it was a burnt hand teaches therapy experience island, raping my deaf advocate and to my humiliation chemically castrating me.  The leaders of the operation were principles named Ronnie, Caspar and Donald, just like Reagan, Weinberger and Trump. Weinberger lived on Mt. Desert Island and Bush was on the same ship as my father in WW2.

         There are hidden indexes that I don’t go into very much because they aren’t as easily established as the great majority of the evidence in this case work.   The majority of the work shows that the English associates of Hitler, led by King Edward, worked with Ian Fleming and Allen Dulles to murder JFK and that Reagan was party to this in the AIDS attack.  Then they used cinema, particularly Japanese pornography, to encrypt symbolic explanation for their pyre for the liberal Casanovas. All of that is easily settled by my research, but who actually kidnapped and tortured me?  They were friends of Warhol, so since I was in the child development stages of pre-pubescence, and they were violent pedophiles, the picture of Trump and Warhol before a man with a shirt reading Piaget, the famous name of a child development specialist, and the film of him dancing with Epstein show the field of operations being cultivated as a cultural establishment above and as a hidden hand behind the kidnapping and mutilation.  It should not be forgotten that a stand-in cameo was made by Trump in a film from the year of Warhol’s Lennon script, 1974, called Network.

        The black man who greeted my delivery to the world when I lived in the Ruskin, where I was given John Ruskin books, was Nathan.  They took me to Storybook Forest. The Nathan/Forest angle (a Confederate General) suggests black and white union confederacy in the plot.   Further, Ralph and Shawn Brooks, the latter of whom threw me out of his church into the hands of an armed and violent mob as an 11 or 12 year old bear the same first names as Ralph and Shawn Proctor, white and black respectively, who made illegal tapes of me at WQED spewing out horrific memories of being molested by Donald as a child, tapes which were brutally distorted to run me from my home, help Leslie slander me (she admitted I never touched her) and take my fiance into a custody where she became an employee of Shawn Brooks, a fact that Ralph Proctor engineered through co-workers at my school because as he openly confessed he and his friends “like knocking out white boys.”

         Trump set himself up as Judgment Day, a picture of health to bring in the young to laugh at the muse who didn’t want sex cut from the collegiate scene by a virological weapon, and was unmanned by the very rock stars he turned to for help (they claimed they were from Amnesty International).  The hated enzyme they lisp was necessary to thin the herd and set things right. The fact that they didn’t give me AIDS has been used in weaponized conduct to brutalize me in a victim-on-victim gladiator war game very similar to an illegal dog fighting syndicate. Deaf suck! They yammer. You must want poisoned in the mouff!