I am going to address the Corona Virus situation but for now, having observed people looting the bacterial wipes at the Super Market, I am opposed to immediate statements that will be construed as another sign of panic. The every man for himself ethic has to be accommodating of Our Commonwealth. We have the duty to protect ourselves but not to shortchange others.  Anyone remotely familiar with me knows I have been investigating and rocking against doomsday culture in the military.

      To be lackadaisical about a crime this serious as to completely ignore the militia who warned me, tipped me off, is a supreme form of arrogance.  Your denial is your vote for them, an affirmation of their mission. For some of us, a far number of us weak with other ailments, the Wuhan Flu attack from the assassin group may or may not mean doomsday.   Bravely, South Korea has finally admitted we have a murder cult problem in this matter.

        We all long for normality but we have also yielded the floor to being terribly ill-advised.   The lackadaisical arrogance that has settled in is no laughing matter. I have addressed every single detail of the momentum leading to this dastardly act fully except one - making you listen to me.     I urge you to attempt to exonerate yourselves not through solidarity in idiotic denial, but by swiftly turning on and holding to account the Warhol bedlam behind which stringpullers Fripp and Sinfield operate.   Sinfield is too loud and clear a nom de guerre being used this way to go unnoticed.

        Administrators do not trust me but this is not about trusting me.  I am not the one asking for trust while loud and clearly betraying you.   If you do not look over the evidence and look into my character you are fools, and you if you are not that foolish you should know by now that I am reading this situation right.   This was done.

          It may offend your righteous sensibility as an autocrat-loving nationalist but each life lost in China to this was as precious as your own.   This came on the tide of Brexit, the rise of Euro-Nationalism and Trump making a mockery of Greta. Immediately the usual crowd began laughing and chiding, while the Earth First nutters in the Green Party fascist quarters avowed that it was again the work of the Lord warning the earthlings on behalf of the earth, in an attempt to corner those like Greta who dare to ask, who speaks for the silent weak?

         Of course it isn’t the saviours who dreamed this one up.  They have in mind weeding out, a thinning of the unfit, none of these slackers who interfere with the spike lees of the master plan.   For each of us concerned, including me, another day, another decimal, another increment towards public awareness. They hope you continue to deny.  I hope you wake up. They claim they hope you wake up, too. They have a different sort of wake up call in mind.   

        The despicable glee with which they did this comes from how pointless it is to ask Law Enforcement to trace their many messages to me.   When I first heard King Crimson in my zone of proximal development as a nine year old child, they seemed like a children’s story, a fiction of purple prose.    When I learned that they were covering for the AIDS attack, I struck out trying to get help. When I found their Gurdjieff group praised by the Aum Shinrikyo I began to suspect that they were behind the attacks, and since have shown this to be so.

        Some of all that no doubt bears and is worth repeating.   Meanwhile, new issues and observations arise. Greta’s a little young to be our new FDR, but she seems admirably suited to the problem of political prodigy.   

        Obvious problems attend children in leadership, however we are dealing directly with a culture that has targeted me since childhood.   When I lived at the Ruskin I was given a book by John Ruskin in which my starry eyed faith identified with the protagonist of King of the Golden River.  I was taken to Storybook Forest. We now know why Nathan was angry when I found out, in my early teens, he was still on the payroll of my stepfamily. He had welcomed me to the world.  I loved him. I had no consciousness of his being black. His second look at me a few days later was as though I had done something wrong. This hopeless gang is behind typecasting for a legacy of survivalism and war gaming, in which the black man’s strength is welcomed in full Axis partnership, and it is a mistake to trust them.

         These fire-spitters have advanced a psychological operation on behalf of the attackers that they bray is Black Psychology.  It amounts to nothing more than hatred for self defense from their poison crimes. Like a tribal dance intended to smite the devil within and cleanse the evil one of its death wish, they taint.