The New Philosophy of Murder

      Godwin’s Law went around in editorial opinion rank and file for a while as a stopgap measure against exposing American depravity and fascism.  Supposedly the first person to call an attacker who is assaulting, insulting and abusing trust by the war word of fascist automatically loses the argument.   This slows down the power to identify the truth, that a philosophy of murder is active and underway targeting anyone that is convenient, desirable or gets in their way.   A number of agencies know how it operates: the postal union is a conspicuous example, playing the role of signallers in the ripper murder of Shannon Harps, the Green Party, the Police, online Italian cinema they call chat rooms, it’s a Union switch and signal.  Certainly, the bedlam of University affairs are all up and up about the mayhem. The usual Silence Laws of fascist social history are in play and the most sadistic war crime so far in the United States, the AIDS attack, is largely considered a done deal. The perpetrators were offered leadership of the victims and graciously accepted.  Seattle Queers are notorious new ringleaders of the murder arcana built as a playstation for the affair by Bush, Obama and Clinton, with the help of the Zappa community, once a free speech gonzo rock station, now shrieking outrage at any offense against the Silence Law. The Zappas, having endorsed the AIDS “Project” as they like to leer, are ferocious poison criminals whom the Postal Union abet by mailing funeral fliers to someone they serially deprived of hygienic human liberty, attended by many forms of vicious mental abuse.  It should be noted that I brought myself into their throng when I mistook one of their attendants campaigns for Amnesty International as a place to report torture, instead it was taken for an invitation. That fact is a root function of the Zappa mind. We are supposed to secretly cheer them when Diamonda Galas poses in front of the World Trade Center with a stiletto for the 911 atrocity of Youssou N’dour and Ralph Karsh’s promotion of their take on a script they planted on me in Pittsburgh, sometimes alluded to as 119 for their famous doublespeak about turning the situation around.  For who? They call their fuhrer by the spirit name of Kasper. And of course, the anthrax was Spike Ole Lee’s poetic justice, like the hospital violence that Dr. Proctor teaches about before his target student gets poisoned in the mouth. Everyone must share in the plague they cream with zest. Their favorite trick is to rub snot-like blood on the hands of someone who jerks away or makes a face at one of their hired lepers. Encrypted in their real world cinema show is Ezell’s Chicken stand in Tacoma. Zell was the ringleader of the war game about contagion on Mt. Desert Island, a game of chicken, and although he was proven to have had prior knowledge of the AIDS attack, he got away with it before contemporary history when Dweezil endorsed him.

     My father Ryland, a WW2 Naval Lieutenant, author of textbooks concerning humanizing schools for greater equity, and a Peace Corps leader whom the Regional Director of Amnesty International called a hero, was one of those murdered early in this game.  I was positioned in 1984 to learn about AIDS and father came into the hospital with a loss of appetite after Ehrlen and Mer (Merlin) waved their fingers over the rejection of a nutrition center. He died. The obituary was scribbled, DONOHUE, with zell-like references to “injection” of values and a paean to the German Green Party.   By then, the foreign English were cooing at me that they loved me, and pretending they had found Yoko Ono’s Warhol script by Gail Burstyn, already in place with their gadgets of infamy for the Medicine Man Production that Obama and Bush clinched the title of God’s win with. In denying this, they boldly poisoned me in the mouth.

     The fewer people willing to stand up to evil there are the easier it is for the evil to make a mockery of resistance by just torturing dissent.  The Beatles have become a wallflower, their pesky celebrants a form of wax museum Royalty, so they get only a passing groan from local Police when murdering from Warhol Foundation, eventful though the non-event may sadly be, a sad shrug, like the women in the film Arsenic and Old Lace, it’s more a question of covering for them; but their politics are misunderstood, they were never really against the Vietnam War, they just had a pathological fury towards being upstaged.  Nor were they ever really against the AIDS attack. So much so, in fact, were they in favor, that it will continue to be said that it never happened. In so much as the script of Gail Burstyn is a metaphor for anything it is a statement about the how, moreso than the why, those who authored the abomination also picked up where they left off and made their own weapon into their medium for momentum and more terrorism. All they did was say they found the script and that they were representing the victims.  Even though this planned chicanery is obvious from the evidence, the fiction was never addressed, much less questioned. Some of the dead, my father for example, killed by the program were distinguished men, but aside Yoko Ono, he, an educator and Naval Lieutenant, means nothing. To fill the vacuum concerning why that would happen, a philosophy of murder has evolved and been put to good effect by State Government in Washington.

        Seattle is to blame, not Jimmy Crary.   It’s not the principle of the thing. If it was the principle of the thing the civil powers in our society would be defending me with all the vigor they claim to be defending Lennon and Reagan with.  Hypocrisy is just a British alibi. The whole point of the caseload was to transfer the blame. The very cartoon like claim of revenge is right at the point of the movie: the fat lady sings. DD was a symbol that the war with Hitler wasn’t finished yet.  Kasper, the Walrus, was the whole point of England’s take. It didn’t just fall into place, they said it just fell into place, as though God was watching over us.

        The cynicism with which the AIDS attackers used victim status as poker chips shows the deflection and complete lack of remorse.  Don’t question the black confederates because they are black. Don’t say like Anne Frank about a child hiding in the closet from murdering Nazis.   Say instead, when did you get suspicious after decades of defending the truly guilty and cloaking your plans in failure to warn.   

       Peter Gabriel, and his war buddy Donald Trump, are lucrative snake oil salesmen, true, but they have discovered an important principle in American politics:  the weakness of the truth and the power of the lie. By deriding the truth, they carry the mob, where the Democrats squeak of telling the truth so insistently that any trivial inconsistency in their story shatters their entire name.    Trump’s specialist in contract killing, Yoko Ono, shrieks about white lies, intoning a great dementia into the minds of her guerilla savants.

         The bottom line is the appearance of Dan Rather in Dealey Plaza while they were waiting to shoot Oswald:  Rather. That is a keyword in preference theory. The psychopaths of Seattle civics preferred Lennon’s illogic to anything that would warn, intervene and assist.   The suspicious silence about the tragedy was the mask of approval for the perpetrators in a twisted idea Seattle claimed was the mind of Lennon and thus proves it wasn’t the mind of Lennon, over which they frowned, a ha, with licky chops glee.

       It’s an open secret that Seattle found encouragement from their bedfellows in the Pennsylvania Ku Klux Klan.   Lew Karl and Bill Wheeler were always the sort to sneer that anyone who opposed the war in Vietnam should be stripped of their rights as Americans.   Ralph Proctor of Pittsburgh NAACP was so hostile to having a white man in Philosophy of Education who opposed the war that he all but blamed my father for a Veteran’s suicide, while teaming up with suspicious South Africans in the big voodoo production of Operation:  Medicine Man put on by Oliver Stone and George Bush. Despite this teamwork with Kennedy killing patriots, Seattle failed to hide that their machismo is the gang ethic of a terror group.

        What King Crimson, Trump and Colin Powell are trying to use sorcery on is the fact that they don’t have the right to pick off a Pittsburgh Public School child.  Neither does Seattle. Seattle piled on in a deranged, Manson-like hate crime. Their crime is too serious to lampoon, but their character so loathsome it is impossible not to.  Seattle is criminally insane, and think, openly espouse, their bizarre claim that poisoning people proves they are sane. They are normalizing poison crime and calling it humanizing.  Where this comes from is Britain. Britain saw the profits in homogenizing the abomination, calmly talking of fighting stigma while taking measures to fan hysteria and spread. Double suicide, as a form of love affair, was something they counted on.

         UW has a statue to the 1000 Cranes, a story of a girl who died from Hiroshima radiation poison.   It’s a frustrating story because it, like the AIDS attack, comes from the cruel mind of Japan. If Japan were so uniquely sensitive that they were victims in World War Two, why did they have so much fun doing the mass butchery in Nanking?   These questions shouldn’t need to be asked and wouldn’t need to be asked, if Kennedy’s assassins hadn’t been given representation by Great Britain as rectifying a war crime by invoking America’s use of atomics as a forward march in the AIDS plot.

        Everything they’ve done they hide by saying nothing is real:  Jackson Labs, the Injection War Game, the impacted rape phobia about virginity, pussyball, 911, the calls before 1980 from DIA.  The only thing they plastic insistently is that Lennon’s ashes were real. So America owes Yoko Ono their servitude, in the name of Gail Burstyn, their little Nikita.

         The FBI of course agree with Obama and Ming Na Wen, if poisoning a white will help society pull through this curse then so what?    Midori Goto is a shocking Nancy Reagan elite call girl at the heart of this nightmare. She is promoting Manson murder as a spiritual double suicide where her mate, James M. Crary, who she chose against his will, is being sacrificed to the ghoulism Aum Cult style of Yoko Ono’s bribery of the AFL-CIO and their Green Party dacoits.  This isn’t found art by Warhol, it’s a trashy gangplank. Queerball, sniveled the English, will want access to the tabloids left behind by Lennon, what a good way to end this by being there waiting for him. Again, we see Lennon’s spirit in defense of the attackers, and this perversity the South Africans call “Mock C land” (Moxyland, get it?, Macryland).

          Colin Powell is Idi Amin, so let’s just call him Kasper.

         The Kennedy assassination researchers are afraid to talk about Yoko Ono and all the mockery made of murdering Kennedy on the Beatles’ records.   They are afraid to talk about what it means to assimilate the Japanese who enjoyed the revenge spectacle, and the presence of a Japanese diplomat through the affair in the basement of the Dallas Police Department with Jack Ruby.   They don’t talk about the indexology between Gail Raven and Gail Burstyn, in part because they are told to have faith believe their whole heart in Gail Zappa. They don’t want to explore the gas chamber built for me by hirelings of Attica Prison psychiatrist Bernard Wattenmaker or the role of Ralph Karsh in partnership with Peter Sinfield of King Crimson in real world’s production of his Death Seed lyric sheet.  They just send me long poems about having a sweet, catering lover, after castrating me and taking my bride to be for the recreation of UW’s guttersnipes along with Funeral Expense fliers. They are defilers in a snake oil dictatorship.

        Putting innocent people to death and creaming, “Thfo? Thfo?” to the Beatles and their schizophrenic hirelings, dubbed shamans, is the funniest thing in the world.