As you know, I have been used as a Federal (deep state) war toy every day of my surprisingly long life, having made it to 59 years old, which under the circumstances is both a biological and political miracle. This isn’t to say my condition isn’t shabby, battered, defeated, horrific and destroyed. It just means I can still leave my message in a bottle hoping that what Swedish Hospital says in a public wall painting, that they still believe despite all that human beings are good in their hearts, as a prayer against state evil in Pittsburgh and Seattle; which isn’t to say this demonstration of tactics and methods isn’t quasi-cultural, rather than maliciously governmental. Like the book provided by Gail Burstyn, her mentor and leader, HitlerReagan, spoke up in furious support for outsiders taking over. The cahooters go by many names, school, the CIA, Operation: Paperclip, but their favorite is anonymous.
What I have found in State of Washington, although no doubt some of the same priceless people who hold estate in Pennsylvania, and Maine, where some of the real horror in action was, are one and the same, is a sect of Executive All-Stars from the boonies of our landscape and national estate which flourishes in Washington State beyond all others, as the campaign for the ecology movement of the Governor Jay Inslee so softly underscored. The sacred disappearing mountain pointing to Japan of Ichiro Suzuki and Sherman Alexie is visible from my gate on those days when not hidden in a mist.
So much is hidden by a similar mist, that comes and goes, not my own journey of course, the Europeans of Warhol, Putin and sundry, are all over it with Oliver North. Nothing I do escaped them, and their despicable, loathsome, biased, evil, judgmental war game. In other words as I type my self-writing they gloat saying the queerbutt thusly illustrates another example of his hypocritical American white exceptionalism in their death row taliban of Section 8. Warhol Museum knows my secrets and they use them for their shield against their own authorship of atrocity.
Violence in Pittsburgh was so bad that at the age of 12 I didn’t think I would live to see the year 2000. I was a little reflective about that when I did. Not that anyone cared when they saw the war game written for their psychotic sway from the University margins. Right now, my ear rattles, and there was an X-ray that is being looked into for what seems possibly be a good deal of plaque in my jugular vein, in my opinion almost certainly clocked to the revelations about plaque in the brain I was allowed with my Federal Pell Grant to school, whose authorities humor me while watching me as an experiment in the process of becoming. Who owns the experiment is a dramatic fight behind the scenes. My humanity was long ago ruled out by the Nuh-Nuh of The Stranger Newspaper sex and death idea that they used to kill Saoirse Kennedy. It’s a risk status identity culture from King Kook’s dissertation on street scholarship. I certainly don’t know their stock holdings.
These people have always had organized undercover access to me in public schools and nearly unspeakable effrontery. They found a tot alone on the street, forced “it” on “glue” and this horrid brutality in Pittsburgh, about which the filthy rippers furiously lie and tamper in deadly organized police crime ultimatum and lies, lying about the head injuries, lying about the coercion, calling themselves a Human Rights food fight in a Section 8 mentality hoedown from University of Washington Sociology and its Murder, Inc., use the frightened, terrorized, on the set of the movie obedience of giving up personal property as a DeGrell Catholic Worker representation of beatnik philanthropy as though summoned by Allah as an issuance from higher ethics of the beknighted soul. So do the stranglers come to bat for the Pitmans in one of the truly disgraceful acts of that Hitler used toilet paper Ringo Starr for whom child rape is a norm.
It’s also interesting that the author of a letter the Post-Gazette used to get revenge for ratting on HitlerReagan was written by a Kasper gas man who locked me in a house from the inside with Salk Labor operators using stage managed louis adultery from Pitt’s Nuclear Society as a foil against civil rights and as a India Prod in the AIDS attack. Not surprisingly they called it Food Fight, an allusion Polly Saltonstall took to in naming her dog Calhoun for the mouse experimenter of overpopulation legend, up on Caspar Weinberger’s Hitler war game isle.
Operation Just Desserts was thought by the same brainiacs who killed JFK as part of it. They called it the Green Party and it made up of the sort of Axis Reds that Lee Harvey Oswald was, the red is grey and yellow white, we decide was is right society of Fascist Britain. The real Shaky used to stand outside Babyland shouting, “I’m gonna split your head wiiiide open,” while Migliosi taunted him with a big bank bag full of Kennedy halves. Not playing. That happened. Right next door to where Mancine’s Manson Family drank booze at the tavern of the heart poison suspect’s pappy.
The cahooters get a laugh having plotted Abby Hoffman’s Steal This Book, it renders the plan, oh 60’s holy insight for Yoko Ono’s found art premeditated sneak attack. The cahooters like to call it disturbingly by Naturalism, and Chernukya. They are intellectuals by god they are. They know many, many important things that you will never dream, and they thought it all through, play by play, frame by frame, blow by blow from United Fruit, Inc.
When Jenny Rubin, friend of Gail Burstyn, wanted to protest the girls at school being asked to wear skirts, she arranged for one of her rental dumplings from Neva to teach some extra-curricular sex education to the movie set item of scorn. Meanwhile on high, bound up in futures, occupying the vertigo of the empty mansion made of blocks of space and no chandelier, Riback radiated the mood you don’t want to mess with me on account of being a Federal Jew doing something specially cynical and thus insightful for the top sacred government which puts him by a margin beyond the rats of provincialism on the road to road, dog eat dog, rat race nature of reality. It’s top bomb holler widow maker control beyond all imagining, lying as they go, and thus informed authorities, misconstruing as making sure to thicken the mysterious mist around the shadow curtain of authoritarian views that might happen to look at your every move type thing.
But the hardest thing to explain is that in dealing with the malicious slanders and fear-mongering hate crimes about me by Penis Gabriel I sized up the impingements of Thos. Gordon, the weaselry of Ming Na Wen and called the whole affair Mysterious Chinese Gordon, only to discover later to my astonishment that Charleton Heston actually played a role called Mysterious Chinese Gordon, to my amazement. That is impossible to explain, but it is reinforced in its mysteriousness by the political dialogue of this Gordon from Harvard, who told me of my support for Jesse Jackson’s Presidential Campaign, he would be doing them a favor, and, also, he was, at that time, in the early 80’s, the first person to drop me the idea of Yang for just giving people robo-income.
Mysterious Chinese Gordon, indeed.