Earlier today or yesterday, somewhere thereabouts, I apologized for being forthright in my views, wanting the antagonists to reply so that the public record is advised of their position. UW Dialectical leapt forsooth at the chance and flooded my premises with a jackpot of paranoid schizophrenia and insanity diagnoses. All of these professionals boast credentials, clearing their throats as they cut me off saying that I have none and that is all. I got what I came for, their reply. It was as easily said as done.
It’s sad how quickly and easily it brings us to the truth since the root of their breaking of silence was simply a controversial political opinion. Whoops. Such sorry scenes from the modern modernity of UW are ponderable in the homework way. Their mission house, unremarkably given their taste for demolishing taste, even enlists Greta DeThunberg Johgn in an effort to angle for Michael Reagan’s favorite scene some more.
I don’t know what they would say if they had a shred of honesty however. There’s no script tracing the murder of Lennon to me or covering for the AIDS attack when it comes to Covid 19, the opposite. There is a long history of my attempts to warn about the paradigm of social distancing clear in how I spent the last 30 years alone, the pigs going absolutely crazy whenever I asked someone out. In those records are the same storyline, those who put their names on the crime claim it proves them innocent. I don’t know what you would say if a frightened child who believed me were to asking Judge Pechman what it means. She would probably sneer at me is that your way of saying I told you so queerball?
Police retards padding their scandal sheet is what a brilliant would expect, stupid me expected a little insight and courage.
We know that Penis Gabriel hired a gang trying to make good on the Israeli claim that I have been rightly humiliated. It sometimes feels that way, like a Jew would feel hearing the liberating army laugh and say within earshot at least Hitler gave it to the Jews. The strategic importance of how his team, Tracy Chapman for example, dehumanized the white as a sociological statistic in their exploitation by songwriting elevates the permanent status of rock musicians while targeting for absolute erasure the achievements of my dead father, and by extension, as Fripp would put his thinking, the Kennedys.
Copyright was a planned in advance criminal charge in this operation. With Federal complicity I was scheduled to be devoided of rights before I was even born in agreement with the Union contract mother who provided me for Pitt vivisection. Pittsburgh never owns up. Typically, one of their starlets, the assassin Deanna Mancine would ask me hootingly how did you get yourself into this. That’s a British way of describing blindside, slaughtering attack of a frail child on the way to school, which in the limits of macabre the auto-translator in a youtube testimonial routed as blonde side attack.
The paranoid schizophrenia convenience, a cover up, which is contrived for fickle ends, since they reluctantly admit there is a neuroplasm in my facial nerve and head trauma injuries, including scar tissue on my eyes, not willingly mind you, this cover up is a euphemism for the copyright claim, a PS cover up by the true author Penis Sinfield, a global riipper hatter working for Tharles, to whom the media interface of celebrity politics reminds him in woe of thex and the dreadful days when dozens of groupies threw themselves motel after motel at anyone who even carried the drumsticks of Ansley Dunbar.
The copyright, my research has shone, by the logo of a c in a star of David was central to Dialectical UW’s extermination psychology for business majors. Sequelae from this ruling by secret society have abounded but to understand them all you need to realize that +1 also was designated as thex. So the c and +1 have a synergetic symbiosis in the mayhem.
There is one respect in which Penis Gabriel can be taken at his word, when he sings in his food poisonous shifty mugging of a New York rapist I don’t care who I hurt I don’t care who I do wrong. If you wonder will the real Pener Gabtiel please stand up, that’s where he did. One has to be a coordinated and talented typist to cover his mania. Framing me for his own crimes and failing miserably, his online cheering section settled once and for all with the doctrine that Creary wouldn’t have been able to rape someone if he tried. This was their grounds for raping deaf Jeannie, Saoirse and chemically castrating me. They said it themselves, implied it, lionized it and live on to laugh and sing its glory. They call it wise men sharing a joke.
The idea of Marshall McLuhan that the medium is the message has never been more clear than the deliberate ruin they subjected me to in the flesh, pouring acid on my face, deafening me and so on, but there is an insidious tuning that doesn’t involve flesh and blood effigy and that the is message of cold deliberation from the talented directors from Hollywood who produced the script and the glorification of rights in the matter belonging to the assassins. It comes from the early age of Hollywood, the age of black and white. Von Stoheim revealed that his first encounter with film was when he found a pile as he looked through it the strips burst into flame. The instant burst must have keyed him with devilish insight as he straightforth to make his film, The Exquisite Sinner, reminiscent of the parochial lampoon classic, Holy Sinner by Thomas Mann. This is what the Beatles were designed for, to wow the sinners, the create sinners and finally to bring karma down.
Paul McCartney, for the duration of my life, have offered up this nightmare as though his support for those he claims killed Lennon is precocious absurd theater, albeit as deadly for innocent people as AIDS. Well, Covid 19 shows just how absurd it is. Claiming that AIDS was not manmade but Jimmy Creary is spiritually to blame for it now seeks furiously to use the erasure on my manipulation to the Third Park of Tears and all record of my timely warning. The pretext for the murders by Yoko Ono is smothered in Lennon and AIDS but the bloodline to my father shows the real motive is revenge for Hiroshima. Ono gruesome’d her schtick in New York City with a War is Over if you want it billboard needing the qualifier because she didn’t. Just as a famous Japanese soldier held out in the boonies until 1974 when the script was ripe, Bullet Trains of 64 and dead liberals in 68, the plotters were on the move.
McCartney’s rage on what they claimed was little Jimmy’s jealous fevers played fast and lose on the brutal facial nerve agent that poisoned me, for which Donnie Chin was gunned down while his killers spread the rumor that I got him killed by having been castrated. This allowed them to justify the rape and murder of Saoirse, but the war game sown by Penis Gabriel was long planned. Before the Internet went on he rang me up and said bizarrely I have grown web feet. They operate in vigilante mode. The murderers were all set to inflict absolute terror on me by evoking +1 and saying defiant trespass proves rape so I should die by AIDS. Over and over they spun this from their headquarters. I met Mary Anne Steiner at Hes’ Dead Jim, she gave me Danton’s Tod, Todd Kaufman was in that crowd, he loaned me Schodinger’s Cat where a gang called NAH was said to have been waiting for just such a far flung idea as that. As what? As trying to get help from Hitler Reagan out of Midori Goto already under company plan for Trump.
Covid 19 is just spinning their wheels in the grease.
While Dizzy Mz. Lizzy Warren and her fundy squad of hyper feminist dolls gear up to pounce with groping charges, ignoring that Ian Wattenmaker bragged constantly of groping women from a van in Israel, they used me for an LAM sex toy while HAIR, itself, the cast and their attorneys set up sexual misconduct charges, ie. crying as a deaf man when rejected and seeing my loved ones murdered and raped, they did this to cover for brutal pedos while promoting Mapplethorpe and Penis Gabriel as the lamb of God.
Robert Fripp made it look like a quip when exchanging klan signals with Reagan about the New Realism being the old Liberalism by saying that the celebrity superstate was a vinyl solution but he also put the word venal into spin and the deJong of Burstyn on his cover shows he was in on the Venal Solution of AIDS, it all does.
Jimmy was just a twig when they cut him down.