I am not my own favorite person.  As a child I wanted things for myself that might have been a little unfair to someone else.  It was a stage but it was a stage that was made into a grand production.  Niles Shortz, my Israeli-American neighbor when “I LOVE SIRA SIRAN” appeared on a garage door in a Kodak dated picture from 1966 featuring me on a bicycle once contrived to have Sunny Dollars, two halves of a Sunoco game back then, worth 500 dollars on our path.  He got the rare half and when I asked him to trade, he said let’s split it and when I said again, no let’s trade, he tore it up.  While I don’t really blame him, given the level my mind was working on, it’s more than a little strange the same gang are demanding I buy shares in a pornographic snuff film they manufactured of me for years.  The same murderers profess that their love machine is intended to entertain me personally with the fruits of their warfare.  A bit asinine.  Why don’t you just tear it up?

        Woody Allen’s boner of hatred for Hollywood made real good on the idea that Hitler was just another movie star.   It’s obvious that Ono was in on this little gangster operation with him as was half of Hollywood.   Ending Manhattan with the line, “how bout a little faith” is a good gag where asking for faith is a trick of the trade.  Mercenaries of an extremely deranged order mauled me as a child and put me up on an auction block to laugh when I whined about my Bobby Kennedy ideals and see if I wanted to just let them sell another Snuff Film to raise money for the gangsters on the streets circling their prey.  As for Greta, they’ve already said, “that’s not for you.”

       Someone else, is always their message.

       The pornographic movie operators double as Catholic Workers and for variety they occasionally rescue one of their victims, it’s good for public relations, but the real products bonanza has been an inside job all the way, a trick of the tale.

       Accomplice pay dirt shimmies through the super story behind the story, the rescue of Hitler, the escape and so called Friendly Ghost runs through the, “We’ll know you’re alive,” of Kung Fu number one, boy must that have been cun fun; it is in the Hitleresque of the smashed mirror in the opening of Man From Uncle No. 1, it is in No. 1 of Time Tunnel, it is in the, “you tried to hang me” and “my horse wants an apology” of Clint Eastwood, and Kasper’s attack sentence, “if you attack me you better kill me because you won’t get another chance.”

        Reagan tried domestic terror to get recognition from me.  It’s a bad bet Seattle made.  I’ve called their prah-duct, prah-duct what it is before:  genocide porno.