Amy Globalczar, Democratic Party bizarro, Israeli Tartuffe, baggage of the Cold War, suspected Godmother of Gail Burstyn, likely blackmailer of Congress; American political agency is undermined by people who would rather argue the merits of the Vietnam War than explore the preserves of their culture, myths and practices of the Vietnamese people, much less rescue boat people, but bringing even a glimpse of higher education into the voting public’s awareness is a slippery slope for the very reason that simple issues are so out of reach for American armchair pontiffs. The aristocracy of talent was bound to be replaced by a dictatorship in the making because once decapitated they never knew what hit them. Turning to Amy Globalczar the voters of Iowa seek the comfort of reassurance from one of their most virulent and trashy enemies. “I know you,” she tells them and it resonates like the heaviosity from the 60’s book Electric Koolaid. It means she’s been to bed with them.
In the city of Pittsburgh I attended a Bas Mitvah for three girls, XXX, one of their boyfriends cornered me outside and gave me a puff of reefer making me giddy enough to embarrass the girl most interested in me whose knees were shaking as I laughed throughout the ceremony. Behind the Synagogue was a garage HQ of the armed Italian mob and the safehouse of Donald Ostro where I will held in captivity with the help of a seven foot tall black man in league with Julie Sellers, in whose house Trump’s ally James Child showed up for Pitt Emergency Management during the AIDS attack. All of these people were pulling operations for Gail Burstyn.
Ostro showed me a magazine after whom he named his performance group which have been sued for murder for hire acts and exhibited after they comatosed me with mega dosage of a sarin, gassed me hideously, kidnapped me with slaughtering blows, and held me hostage, they exhibited an image so cruel to the mind that Larry Flynt attacked the Supreme Court’s obsenity laws for not censoring it. Although I have secured this magazine and image and put it into protective quarantine, I would not gladly even show a police man, and yet these murdering filth exhibited it to a hostage, traumatized, crying child.
The truth doesn’t stop there about Seattle, I mean Pittsburgh, not by the hair on your Wuhan mouf, Ostro quoted a queer named Ron who said vile things that must be more of Michael Reagan’s favorite scenes, unrepeatable offenses against the mind of anyone living, and ended, “It looks like a bug crawled out.” Freeze. That image comes from the maker of Krakatoa, recommended by Tive, who namesakes the android in Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner, who took it for Alien and financed George Romero. Scott Security was plastered on the hidden garage HQ in Snively Alley for men protected by Edgar Snyder and Prebanic Brothers in the murder of John Kennedy, Jr. Ridley Scott is a key neighbor of Robert Fripp in Dorset of England, obviously charged to shape my formative years so Globalczar could grunt, “I know you.” Kyra, Romero’s daughter, is depicted as a trannie in the Burstyn script.
The murderers IMPLANTED a neurological neurobedience taser into the golem’s brain and the State of Iowa through the golem in jail for trying to survive in screams by the Des Moine River, while Army of God hit the jackpot with secret tapes for the Branch Davidians by WQED, blowing up Oklahoma Federal for Black Lives Matters like Izola Curry. No=yo, they liked Kobe Bryant, Wuhan Mouf says so.
The murderers, led by attorneys for the Warhol catastrophically betrayed the AIDS generation with a Moxyland laugh from South African Secret Service from the Beatles, the ringleaders of the attackers behind the murder of JFK. In one book with a cover like Black Sabbath we read in A Mother in History about Oswald’s mom (supposedly), “In the recitative of this, President Kennedy was little more than the deus ex machina, essential but never on stage”. It goes on to say, "I could not keep the dramatis personae on the proper sides (or on top of) the proper fences, so now "they" swarmed about me like gnats, midges, fruit flies, and sand fleas, impossible to differentiate. I could not find my way out of the buzzing mob, and so I bent my head to concentrate." When you read these trashy pseudo-contributions you need to see that they are laced with sibling killer signifiers, people in the money loop with Jacqueline Onassis, now known to have been the source of the fatal head shot with a weapon held to Kennedy’s throat, a nightmare from the 50’s CIA, beyond her fondist dreams of leaving home, bye bye. One of his lovers, Evelyn Lincoln, writes, “All of my things - Mr. Kennedy’s things - would have to be removed.” The End. The writer of A Mother in History talks about a woman who cleans up a hotel after JFK and says, “He must have been a very bad man.” Amy Globalczar knows you, the sweet cheat gone.
When an Indian chief lay dying who once tried to make good with the white man, Four Bears lay dying, shocked stupid by their intransigence, backstabblery and betrayal, he died, who has tried love, with detestation and fury on his lips, easily culled sentiments for the abstraction of Beatles’ Moxy-shamanism in the Medicine Man program of cowhooves worth “millyions” to Seattle Queer Confederates. Do you think the Holocaust Jews feel less? She knows you but you donoher. Carrie Gister, her entourage lisp.
The murderers control the online switchboards isolating the deaf white suck in their manufacture. They patrol the parochial recovery units and probation offices. Mt. Desert Island was a clear cut all planned event by child molesters manufacturing pornography of their victim for Yoko Ono’s presentation of revenge over Hiroshima. What wasn’t expected was that Reagan’s team of professional film-makers could wire in a catch, Lennon’s murder, to create an iron guard over the proceedings. That the evidence shows that Lennon got away doesn’t matter. The Smithsonian Folkways patrol are on hand at Real Change Newspaper to ripper murder bystanders, rob the disabled at the ATM and dehumanize the victims for their brain salad Green Party run by I. Donohue Wuhan Mouf B. Kanobi. Seattle painted me as a symbol of the non-symbolic to hide the symbolism of their targeting while justifying it as rage.
Kennedy was an important widget in Trump’s great extermination machine. The Axis married in, and did combat by twisted facelies puckered up to suck for marriage as disposable as a one-night stand, yet half so eternal, leaving the ungodly of New York City panting to be taken, shivering with love slavery in their lonely lofts, as Iowan pap around the corner from Wecht’s East-West Circuit was done in by Jewish lesbians in a semi-detached at 1717 Murder Doc Street, quest of Two Virgins, if you nowhatImini.
Ostro was hotwired into Police Intelligence in the Burgh by way of Blumenfeld, too, over at Space Ape Cop Martyrs church in Bloomfield where we memorialize the Blum Men Felled. Trump would defend KDKA’s decision never to recant broadcast of Abdul the Terrorist not that the real voice was a “Squrl” Hill Jew, but that he knows them, those Abduls are not being slandered thusly, they are, quite rather, being heroically represented for what they is, Inshallah, go forth to make their burqas fly, Ian in the Sky.
The films this cult used, Ian Wattenmaker took me to the Incredible Two-Headed Transplant, “Now I gotta teach this moron how to walk,” or talk, as the pork carrot tape gyrations for Neva Company at Warhol. Reagan uploaded Pittsburgh’s Bork for the Ventrilo-Rehnquist job of Jimmy the extrusionary’s robot, tonsiling for Clinton and Jaime Carbonell in the play of Wuhan Mouf.
Romanticizing street crimes of unspeakable hatred and evil, the Rainbow Coalition piled on, the whole country come a runnin’ watch that deaf white suck get the virgin pussy. We know him, but he donoyu. Shaman Lister, Chow Yun Fat is Mi Yung Joo. Cowhooves virgin and he is a slave. Speaking for Amy Globalczar and Kasper the Friendly Ghost, Gail Burstyn wrote to Iowa son and said, “You don’t know this but I disowned you, now I’m going to write you back into my will.” Adding, “I liked your last letter so much I think I am going to have it framed,” “only two people would know,” and “there’s something I didn’t tell you.”
Vut! Vut, I donovut! By she KNOWS you.
