When UW Sociology begin stalking me they encircle me with the gyrations of how they think, a form of impinging on their target’s experience.   It’s mind-shattering and intended to create fear and pain, but if you think back, long before covid and before the welcome back mouth poison I am still fighting, used on me when I went camping with a group in Seattle, think back to Mt. Desert Island, the police intent is clear - to torment the mind with disease trauma.  On Mt. Desert Island, claiming they were rescuing me from AIDS, they used scabies and other forms of terror.  In fact, my heart rate problem today testifies to a series of traumas so ugly and cruel, so unusual, that I am injured for life.  Clearly, in canceling the 60’s they aim to kill me at age 59 and call it their poetry.  Be afraid, they always say, because our gamer sons wasted your honors student.

       Although the operation itself is bigoted from the direction of UW Asian intellectuals, and has strongarm fascist klan military directors who kidnapped and brutalized me as a child, it enjoys, without protest, the firm support of Obama and the NAACP, which makes Obama’s jabs at Trump very sinister in evading what has really gone wrong.   The Pittsburgh Courier, a black journal, plays the edge of inciting people with mental illness and substance abuse problems by sneering that healthcare workers want to be kept safe from being spat upon and other forms of biological linkage the key concept of which is Cornel West’s communist contagion equity doctrine that ruled out compassionate social distancing during the first outrage.  One got absolutely nowhere trying to warn Seattle government, much less the street people what was happening, they jeered attempts to advise them as white advice.  Government laughed in my face.  Spit and laughter for trying to get help and warning out for the goal of mutual public safety.

        Even though Pitt had openly targeted me for assassiination as a predatory value of their school’s mystique, making perfectly clear that my innocence and willingness to be a model citizen was proof that I deserved torture, ransacking, theft and serial mutilation, they stoked up their rage through the same means, by reasoning openly that might makes right and any attempt to get out of it was proof of defeat.

        When you look at the lifelong project of Greg Karl and Robert Fripp, the tyranny of attack prostitution aimed at locking me out of the church, while devizing a partnership scheme, you find the incomprehensible madness of legal justice being defeated at its very core.  They elevate suspicion to a divine right well advanced over any sort of presumption of innocence.  They used lines that they voice overed and lied about then claimed there must be hidden content, and a secret, but the only secret is that the scary people in public Administration approve, they approve of psychiatric facilities being used for pornography, they approve of poison by nerve agents causing grinding, endless suffering, they approve of lying about murder.

         Because Dr. Ralph Proctor of Pitt holds the view that white society has not suffered enough for slavery, obsessing in rage over the orum speculum, for example, still seen in Neva Pornography from London, he dismisses his alliance with the very same KKK ghouls when they forcefeed a neurotoxin to a battered little child, soft-spoken and in the Honors Department, even when proof of this fact shows up in the records of the killers.  Supposedly this isn’t the root complex that allows his nephew Dr. Nelson Harrison to snap, “you aren’t special,” when the victim of klan torture mentions it in class.  Is Viola Liuzzo to be remembered as a symbol of white disposability to black rage?  It seems incredibly stunning.

        The editorial commentaries online have admitted that some of the women in the anti-abortion movement are only using abortion for political ends.  Do they bother to mention the ringleader Yoko Ono?    Operating out of Warhol she and her gang have molested me to the point of putting a seminal substance in a coffee beverage at Red Elm Cafe.   They say I wanted a virgin, sort of like the climate change believers could be told - here - thought that’s what you wanted about covid, but it is still beyond the skills at the CAT scan of mortal injury in Pitt to admit that it is a lot easier to indoctrinate a semi-coma damaged deaf boy with fear of rejection by a virgin who seduced him in a love masquerade to leave him unrequited.  The editor wants all that deleted in favor of the script they planted and stole when the word Authority came into the class discussion when it wasn’t in the Star Trek lesson plan.

        UW like to say that Stanford Prison Experiment sorts of crimes aren’t allowed anymore, but they don’t even bother to hide their laugh.   Peter Gabriel has long been a problem in all of this, not only insinuating that he meant well for me, and for using Amnesty International as an office to stage manage rape and murder, but also because he mixes his messages in other ways so effectively, like a soothsayer in Jonestown.  He sings, “the weak must die,” but the music is too soft to understand that he means it.   His fascination with Anne Sexton smolders with her licks, like blow by blow.  To these monsters the idea of civil humanity is irrational, to be proven false by stamping it out.

Letter to a friend,

       I have been reading Dorothy Thompson.  I really love her pace, agility and stamina.   Many years ago Martha Gellhorn wrote to me.  I was then living in Montana with a strawberry blond girl from Maine, who was then Miss Hayford, she stayed there while I went back to Maine.  Martha had said she tried to understand my letter.  Though it disturbed her, she was very brave about it.  She was obviously being lied to by others, I could sense that, but she didn’t want to face facts, so she put off on my inability to make clear what what I was saying was predicated on.  That was thirty years ago.  I’ve had some time to think about it and why I couldn’t explain, further I’ve taken a class with Dr. Kathryn Fulton of Tacoma Community College in Linguistic Anthropology.

        Language idioms can come to be privileged by people who hold them as genuine.  In fact, some very firm aristocracies can form around language idioms so that if you don’t use them correctly you are deemed unfit.   I’ve seen this in underclass situations, but also among the very well to do.  The reason I couldn’t explain what what I was saying was predicated on is because the language idiom of the criminal group I am reporting, although criminally insane, is highly privileged among them.  Without knowing that they take themselves seriously, very seriously, you would not understand that the words they use have content that is explosive.  I had stopped making that mistake and was very shaken up.  I could not explain why in such a ways that Martha got the message.  So she balked, or possibly, thinking cautiously, she stalled.

         I remember most from her letter right now, “you cannot mean that.”  And yet they have done it again.  Her letter was taken from me by force because it meant so much to me.  That is the obsessive game of the attackers, to target anything I love, great or small.

        The murderers, from King Crimson, came into my life after Kennedy, meaning JFK, who was my rock as a child, the meaning dimension I lived with.  After I was severely brain damaged and injured by torture as child hostage, then I was ordered to suffer the mystique of their culture and in my deafness recall the power of music swaying me, so I reached out to them, utterly mistaken, and was lured into a trap which I followed pursuing what by then I knew to be ruthless crime.  My mistake was in believing that these murderers simply didn’t understand, in the way that Martha didn’t, and yet it was them, not just their language idiom, but their control tower.

        One has to have someone to tell something like this to.  I remember why I wrote to Martha, how she hammered out a letter on her manual typewriter from Belize.  Her work was sober.  That managed to get me out.  Richard Crane told me, “it’s wonderful that she opened up to you.”  Martha had a gift of knowing when things were too serious to ignore.  Her judgment simply failed her.  I know she wasn’t consciously playing the role of an office in Rosemary’s Baby, but for me her rejection of cause was similar.  It was as though she was saying, you can trust these murderers, surely you know that.  If so, she was wrong, not in league, but in some ways being wrong about them has proven just as deadly.