Sorry, chum, you neglected the inverted pyramid.  You scream and scream and the media laughs.  When you call someone a ripper hatter it is read disdainfully, a creative epithet about a twisted celebrity fantasist from Genesis, not literal, and yet there is Shannon Harps ripper dead at his command, as it moves cleverly as one of his parables towards a bomb threat on the Magic Mountain of Tacoma.  Yes, this is what the headhunter has done.  Although his fast-action murdering partner in crime, John Shulman, was brought to light by Smithsonian Magazine last month, the murderer is still at large, and, significantly, in charge of cyberpatrol over my home computer.

    Even though some serial killers are caught, it can come too late for many of the victims.  Trying to bring forward testimony about a serial killer from Hollywood reflexively turns the newspaper companies into satellites of Rosemary’s baby, the film where everywhere the victim turned was in league against her.  The news becomes a listening post for confederate domain among the psychiatric lobby, a quaint idea, to terrorize someone into screams and clamp down on them as in paranoid.  Pener Gabriel alluded to two such films in his correspondence with me, Eye of a Cat and Wait Until Dark.  His hitman, Clint Eastwood, recently sent me a smoking gun,, all intended to get a spiteful laugh out of the news as they stalk more prey, killing three Kennedys recently.

    The fact that the serial killers are cop-killers at every step of the way has been outmanuouvered by their megalomayhem.  The Chop District call it artistry, a one-world Taliban derived from the AIDS script at Warhol.  The BIG DENIAL holds indomitable dominion over all.  So down go the Kennedys in choppy waters, chop-chop.  Remote cuts a lady named Carrie in half to her ungodly scream in an Omen statement, chop chop.  The meat cleaver of David Summerlin (sum Merlin) comes down on the old refrain of sarcasm.  Calling themselves The Truth, Seattle Times have one motto:  Say Nothing, Do Nothing, Be Nothing.  Yet from all the evidence of the covid bomb the licky chops warriors are ravenous.

     You’ve heard of lying, scheming attorneys but still swear by the idea they are the good guys.  That is exactly what Penis Gabriel did when hiring Amanda Harcourt to lie to our faces and he rampaged with Shulman’s derision on his mockery of our Right to Know Laws, SO.  That’s what they thaid again about covid, SO (pronounced thfo).  The same strategy worked, too, as they murdered our grannies they ran us into the streets to protest Biko.  They’ve been here all the time, like it or not.  The Rotterdam Women’s Conference did their best to educate a non-listening intellectual the degree to which facelies about LOVE are used for human trafficking ensnarement.   The insane among Lennon simply saw the art of it in setting us up through the Neva Corporation, and as Magic Show from Pentagon Disney, they laid their trap with a script in Pittsburgh legendary for openly seeking to incite a free for all  in what they called their zombie apocalypse.  Cunning and deadliness from The Royal Entourage and Hollywood statecraft.

       People don’t usually think of Bob Dylan as a serial killer.  From the beginning of this criminal empire purchased in pain on Nov. 22, 1963, the foreign English rabid have advertised its nature as a poison crime syndicate.  Ringo Starr and Eric Clapton normalized the most vicious drug culture that Hollywood could spread.   Think Hollywood, but act locally was their motto in Pittsburgh.   

       Shulman’s cyber stalking team still dominate the press.  As did Michael McGough in 1986, when I donohue in Pittsburgh was in on the defacement of my father’s post-contact with Tive, bat in  his bed obituary, they take their cues from a fast action museum thief.   Licky chops warriors, far from shying off, see the Smithsonian article as good advertisement for their game.

        Shulman, NAVA and Jindhal/Ono’s counter K  is Green Party pussyball warfare, clocked to the AIDS attack to recruit African warriors, WARRIORS!  Into the Green Party Axis yojimbo plan, a process of symbolic elimination as they reduce the population, a process I call GretaGate for its forcing house utility of Climate Patro.

     The anglo Asian alliance of King Edward in his wartime friendship with Adolf Hitler because, with the Beatles, an American company with the mind of Germany.  Heaped in pornographic satire of little boy they mutilated, Chop District sent in their own champion to Duquesne to do a hateful number for Robert Fripp.  Chris Arnberg after my girlfriend Rosa was like one of the five dick movies in Neva, portending the NAACP resolution that Midori Goto was Queen Sex of the Beatlemaniacs, for the Black Man!!  What was done to me was almost an intellectual heritage for the Japs.  Porno now is unsafe sex because you can be cyberstalked as exploiting the sacrifice girls and be targeted for charityjacking by their corporation through the green party, a Moebius lobby

     I realize I am a phobiaphile but I am certainly not wrong.  I live in Tacoma and my house is full of books.  The Pain Management / Wellness meetings, once a month each, are now zoom.  I am very lonely and the wireclub chat are full of satanists.  It's awful to be alone for 30 years, but my little apartment  is quite sizeable and I have done paintings, bought a tremoloa, played piano at school before the covid bomb.  Did you see the seven minute video I made of piano?  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ei3TlbMLXMI&t=290s  I have drum sticks and drum pads, and I get out hiking.  My best friend has become a man in Massachusetts, an architect, who has a history book online and does research.  He encouraged me to do the talk videos which are in my youtube channel, with CC for Closed Caption (computer generated so not always exact) if you prefer reading what I say.  Just click on Mac Crary and then Videos.   

      The goblins have shown their faces.  A man at the clubhouse came right out about WQED having made sex films of me and threatened to pull a handgun.   There's a lot of cyberstalkers bothering me, misspelling things to read ono whenever they can by computer blip, but there is no one to report such things to.  My mouth was poisoned and then semen was put in a cup of coffee up in Tacoma right before the bomb and that Clint Eastwood fellow, as I said before, sent me a "smoking gun" autograph.  So as far as therapy goes, I am more a Marilyn blowup doll being used by the Queers and NAACP as therapy for themselves.

      Although they lisp sardonic spurning reminders of your distaste for Jimmy Creary to spotlight you frozen like illicit hunters freezing up deer, there is no question this is true and that you should get on it before it is too late.  Pulling the plug on Ming Na Wen will give those at risk as victims of John Shulman and Andrew Cho the best chance they have.