Struggle against the fossil fuel Barons dovetails with evaluation of the Texas Schoolbook crime.  That’s all I’m say’n. I’ll have you know I’m not amused. But tactically it is all so charming, a Masterpiece Theater whodunit with the droll answer we duin’ it.   They say I donohue, but I do. Pelosi tore that Dejit (DJT) speech as though Adam and Eve were divorcing; and I called in the magnifying glass minstrels. Unsolved issues for lack of expression not for lack of reason to investigate like the real name of a kid Varner Brothers called Tang, Karl Andrews.   In this stratego for every Karl there is a subordinate Andrew. Strange things were in play and the cardinal distraction is Extinction Rebellion, one flu over the cuckoo’s nest.

       If you review books like A.D. (Acid Dreams) and Weird Scenes from Laurel Canyon, you see overlap between for one those men without scruples, the intertwining of a psychedelic hallucinating era with a Hollywood control tower uniting Melvin Belli’s Star Trek (with John Wayne sidekick Takei) and the Outer Limits, clocked in to the Warren Commission with the arrival of a man named Dan Rather, as in what you would rather believe.   That’s clearly Frankenstein rule.

       They hit me in the head so hard that psychiatrists send in the police to say either I believe the priceless forgery of Trump control media tower or I will end up in the hospital they like to see me relegated to so they can get over as academic rivals, the neuroplasm commission, you might say.    I get even by doing an obnoxious performing arts chitter chatter as the illustrious schizoid man, and they return the gesture with extreme cruelty.

       Meanwhile, during digital disconnect, the bees vanished and heat waves became longer and more destructive, conflagrations, a sort of Trump Era retirement plan for California seniors.

       Looking back at Batman and Robin, the tumblers of the planters for the diggers, the excavation of Lennon’s war game, his fascist Houdini whodunit, we come to a time as a child when a book called Mitsui mysteriously appeared on my step with gas masks.  The suspect would be the only person I know with a foot in Japan, who liked driftwood souvenirs. His name was Jeff. He taught me a 4 rows of 13 card solitaire in which an invisible opponent is salient. Surrounding me were the secret tunnels to Dejit’s identifiers emerging as though from the slavery of Democracy the rise of the Axis anew.

      In the sense that Mark David Chapman did the honors for the Beatles in taking aim at the persona constructed of himself as an effigy for an American generation he had targeted to destroy, Chapman did the will of Yoko Ono in genocide.

      If the Kennedys want to be half a man and play Robin Hood, Star Trek and The Outer Limits convened, we'll get a laugh.