Either way you read it, Lennon and Reagan were partners in the AIDS attack.  The conventional view put forwards by automatic pilot at Pentagon Disney is that they found the Warhol script, which conveniently placed an image of Gail Burstyn on a Robert Fripp record, exonerated them in the mutilation torture of a child of a human for rhesus human guinea pig, protected and advertised for the nuclear-indexed name Watternmaker and his nerve agent medium, while allowing Cliff Richardson and Diamonda Galas their sadistic role in the 911 attack and events interpreting Dealey Plaza as liberal comeuppance, uniting the hero JFK with the AIDS attackers as part of Operation:  Ghost of a Chance, meaning the love demonstrated for the human race by alias: Kasper. In the notorious view of research investigator James M. Crary, whose person I am, Lennon and Reagan faked the double trouble of their shooting incidents which explains why their attorneys had me there on hand, being waved to by them, and used in their script, to make it treason to report and justify putting me to sadistic death for testifying. The motive, Yoko Ono’s franchise followed my father’s voice as a radio Lieutenant off the coast of Japan and wanted to invert the meaning of Little Boy, the name of the bomb.  Lennon was an insider at Pentagon-Disney working the will of King Edward, whose agents Ian Fleming and Allen Dulles paired JFK with Jackie Onassis for the strange, but true, saga. In the conventional reading, 911 was revenge for Seattle queers by Warhol, in the strange but true narrative, they were just pretending that was the case.

       Putting all of this together takes work.   School doesn’t want to support the facts because of political correctness.   Most any woman who had a clingy boyfriend getting all steamed up when she talks to other men reads the stories of jealous rage in the paper with a good deal of empathy and identification.   Accordingly, the soapbox of Leslie Katz is deemed to be as good as the soapbox of Greta Thunberg. This subsumes the testimony of a bait problem, a systematic and weird (Shawn Brooks word) entrapment program into what Greg Karl calls a larger structure dominated by the persona’s adversary.   Prefacing this social movement with words about “succulent treason” Her Majesty’s Prosecuting Office played it for a war game about sibling intolerance on the sophomore level. Meanwhile, all faith in them, I explained that I hadn’t hurt anyone and was concerned about the mission that engulfed me.  Britain knew about the nerve agent and knew I didn’t. Thinking that Rosa was my partner as a first line of defense against Pittsburgh propaganda, I readily took up with her and was deeply in love. By this means of sexual violence and deception, the British hammered out a wedge by which to be proud of their role in enormity.

        The odd chatter from Warren Commission to Elizabeth Warren includes remarks of curious indexicality about Eastern meal programs that are, in the words of one Warren representative, not even enough to feed a sparrow.  Where’s the beef, they seem to ask, and answer in response with Donna Rice. Addressing the problems of environmental destruction due to the ill-considered bomb testing, and furious mega-machine death of brutal industrial violence, we were treated to a refrain of all in good time.   Greta Thunberg is up against a turbine easily represented for Zeus devouring his children. Add Biden and Burstyn and you get bur/den.

      All of the message was cluster bombed into early learning.  Niles Shortz destroyed 500 dollars in lottery money when I negotiated with him about my half, a reasonable and reassuring moral lesson, even between children, although a little heavy handed in its drama towards me.  There was Donald Finnegan, a huge bully towering over me, followed by Kasper saying, if you try to defend yourself from me you better kill me. Who is the Casper, hi, remember me, behind Geli Burstyn who we thought we had killed but hadn’t?

         I hit a snag yesterday on my field trip.  In linguistic anthropology we were asked to make up terms.  Several classmates came up with grizzonaswitcher for inscrutable turns of tone in vocal representation.   When I said that a snaghugger must be someone comforting a dead tree, the multi-connotation, social moebius disgruntlement soothsaid arrogance onto the gesture as though to hint at a lewd dementia, like the hubba hubba scene in the basement of the DPD waiting for Lee and sure, man, don’t forgit hire duh Vet, heh, heh, heh.