Let me spell this out clear.  The letters from the attackers characterize me as just another white Adolf Hitler, born six months from his birthday, only alive because of the atom bomb and thinking we’re better than them.   But that six month marker (as his birthday is sometimes Easter, which gives pause) is Oct. 20th, which is 10/20. Knowing that the letters use every alphanumeric they can summon, like 10-4 for Oct. 4th and mission control, 4/4 for DD and other relevant symbols, you have to consider the possibility that they also used 10-20-30-40-50 or more.  Note that Lennon is claimed to have died in 80 and they made a butcher baby mess of my private zone, unethically. Lennon of course staged that, which is a factor in the way that Media Controls the element of what people are allowed to believe. He probably sniggered oh it will be more tragic than Jesus.

       It’s not that they aren’t at it again, kill a celeb and release a germ as foreplay to Ringo’s butch ultimatum.   January 2020 was the usual peculiar demand for an oath in the battlefield of meaninglessness. If you look at the landscape, the web that plotted an architectural golf course in our surroundings to Hitler-Reagan semiotics in film, leaving him spiritually as one with John Lennon when he laid their laurel wreath at Bitberg Belsen and flew as a mighty Phoenix to Yasukuni Shrine, you find 1025 Liverpool (Bidwell, like slave auctions) built by the architect who put decapitated peace signs around the school, and that Mothers Day prank from the mothers of invention is the birthday ordeal between Nancy and Mz. Goto.

       Odessa File opens on 11-22-63 and Voight creams to his girl, “know what a picture of that would be worth?”  I’ve taken to asking people, “know what a picture of the fall of the West would be worth?” It offends me what people will do in Casino Reality for bucks.  In the credits of Odessa Oswald morphs into the name Ronald, as my semiotic has shown is a pattern. De De, the scripted 4/4 me, too of King’s assassination is the name, De De Allen that opens the film Serpico.  They wove and they mania’d to distraction. At the end of Superfly you see a needle skyscraper and the words Ron Priest. All of that seems to say Trump Control Tower as loudly as the Takes a Giant ad on the programs of Goto at I Siciliani Vespers.

        I don’t see America as the Red Baron’s right of tale to tell by murder.    Yojimbo warfare is like make-believe only you get made to believe. They think of the whole thing, as you can tell from the blurb of Reagan’s attorneys from the day he claims he was shot and waved to me the night before, which says, “there’s no such thing as objective reality only what the jury believes,” that their Casino of Reality is a bizarre high stakes sweepstakes sweeping away their massacre with Lennon’s glee.

       To understand clearly take a look at a few films out of Russia, like House of Fools, or Moscow Does Not Believe in Tears, take a good look at the real Russian character and then compare it to what you are allowed to believe in the Greta Garbo film Nanotchka about a robot woman spared eternal droning by an American kiss.    I know a lot of intelligent people who protect themselves by being disdainful towards scrutiny. They don’t mean to be evidence shy, but the spirit world is an occupied zone where Ringo Starr and Donald Trump, as partners, are playing a game of murder for keeps. They adapt what’s real as though writing a prescription.