For the queers, unless Greta Thunberg’s gang make good on their threat for still more yet, Covid-19 was like the cherry in a tin roof for Stuart Sheppard, something you always save for last.   They just loved the dissertation, made the whole thing exquisitor.  Warn and stop the killdozer?  Hello, Chief Nocando.   They were the perfect Republicans, so busy justifying themselves that protecting others was out.  They came in as stormtroopers to protect the guilty, licky chops for a Hollywood dumbzine, pronouncing the legal declarations of Nazism established in Dealey Plaza by the Warren Report war on reporters, forbidding the actual deed to be disclosed, heaped in womanly preference for what they’d Rather and much more.  The Beatles started a fight with a little help from their friends.

      An aggressor who mongered a Dead Letter sent to me from Florida, a Squirrel Hill/Greenfield Jew whose father was a Taxi Driver and who befriended Nancy, Barbara and Jody, a three pair team from the 70’s, living across the street from actor of Israel Harvey Friedman contacted me under an assumed name.  He reminds me of the man who was at Bethany College sleeping on the job before a bat was found in my father’s bed.  Friedman was a lover of a girl who got around with me and some other Israelis, who helped him deflower sign language Nora.  Nora and Nora were at both ends of the Taxi Drive.  A squirrel jumped out of my mother’s partner’s kitchen cabinet, Elnora Jones, and injured her in the end.  Elnora, just one DeNiro might say.

       Gabriel made sure I knew in the 90’s visit to Bath that they sometimes call it Bat Spa.  Elizabeth was a friend of Robin Lipscomb, Obama’s confederate who gave me a vampire book to read about shooting the vampire, first person, into the sun, like a cape Kennedy wore for Penis Gabriel’s NASA.  Lipscomb was a Black neighbor of an advisor for Milton Shapp when Flipp was mucking around Milton Abbas.

        We notice that Thunberg has a sister named Beata, while transforms the encryption from PETA for their partners at NAAMBLA into Beat/les s/a/le of hate.  Scandinavian VOGUE depicts Greta as part of Sinfield’s puppet show, the recurring “whilst” of his trashy scrawls.  So it’s a fair bet her mucking with Arnold is evidence she was produced and stage managed by Trumpytune.

       Code Red College gave me a course taught by Stave, as in stave off disaster, a course in Climate Change after putting batshit in my mouff, but what I really remember best is Andrew Cho’s MO LARRY CHEESE moment, as though some kid had told him about a late night party and he’d gone into hallies about Burmese captives of Khmer Rouge, he was lunging about this ways and that, du’un like dis here and at dere with his hands tied Burmese prisoner like, upraised on de flats ‘o he haid.

       Makes a brother remember being blitzkrieg’s by sudden unprovoked blows from a stranger outside Ratner’s in Sq. Hill (where a crimzoid laughing box walked by once) just as a chauffeur stepped into his limo.  Licky chops twisties from the yakuza as accuser.