The one thing you can count on in the persistence of evil is how carefully they measure forgetfulness.  The first so-called traitor in the Vietnam War was Hitler’s arch-enemy Franklin Delano Roosevelt. The French that Joe McCarthy goaded Eisenhower into backing were former Vichy allies there of the Japanese.  FDR wanted them out. The sentiment that emerged with John Wayne was iconoclastically put into semiotic as a turnaround system from 1946 to 1964 by pro-Axis Hollywood who only endured WW2 because the fools in Japan forced America into it.  They weren’t about to be bound by the terms of democracy. From the day of the Kennedy assassination the art of American politics has sadly been the destruction of their meaning.

        The real beneficiaries of JFK’s murder were Getty Image, Sotheby’s types and Oliver Stone.   Poaching in fact was also cast as bounty on an atomic war criminal. Those who enjoy debating Goebbels in his logic, like Mark Nordenberg of Pitt, particularly enjoyed the fact that it seemed beneath an American of the right-minded, Roosevelt school to abandon persuasion and resort to paranoid ranting about traitors.  

        Gandhi said that while probably people around him were right that fascism could only be stopped by violence it was for him personally beneath his dignity, not necessarily that people should follow him in this, but that he would rather die than be reduced to being an animal, which of course is what the fascists want to hear.  Israeli belligerence is a counter-attack on that notion, an insistence that violence has been shown the only way. In mockery about the idea that dignity and non-violence make dignity a curse and being humane an act of suicide, Axis Hollywood took Dr. King at his word and gave him the role of Pied Piper to the beyond by red carpet of forgiveness as a premeditated guarantee to assassins.   

        Disallowed by the muse of rhetoric in newspaper alley to denounce the haters, the lisp was triumphant in tonsiling a ruse they call Godwin’s law, that if democracy EVER dared to answer evil in terms it deserves they would announce a forfeiture of honor, so there.

         The sharp mind of Goebbels lives on to such a degree in the United States of Learning that I suspect we will miss Orwell’s world someday soon.

         The sharp mind of Goebbels lives on alive and well in the sprees of Penis Gabriel.   Pener Gabriel complains that his conjob and cover story for the AIDS attack cost a fortune to secure.   How could anybody expect him to take a loss on his investment in atrocity? Watchful of the sociopathic reasoning by which his attorneys persuaded Congress and covered up premeditation as enlistment in felonious frauds from Disney, Gabriel of course took care to assure the Kennedys they were in good with the conspiracy theories of Yoko Ono pitched as a cover story to protect Dexter King’s Intellectual Property at CMU.   Ah so, said the Kennedys, this seems wise, and knowing that this was in place, British Labor, caustic karmamechanics at work on soul murder, stitching of the psyche and Yojimbo saw their opening, at root, they lisped, Mac Crary hates Saoirse Kennedy, we will voodoo an Orwell scene to make Lennon’s goblin ghost cream.

       In securing information about Cliff Richardson, his use of Kennedy’s persona, his capture of our television sets when the Outer Limits debuted, postponed a week for Kennedy’s funeral, if you discount the Oswald Episode, and then riding high in a private plane above the WTC on 911, Richardson and his pals asked that the rabble not understand the implications, and grovel before the image of Lennon’s back being turned to woo the ravenous mind of the tunings (Buckminster Fuller) of thought airwaves with the wow that this signified, by voodoo nostra from the mid-60’s, the ghost of Lennon’s lawyer defending HitlerReagan for Burstyn, Powell and Spin.

       The rabid made clear when they kidnapped me, like a very special Pittsburgh Jane Fonda capture, that I was a poach for guerilla prison tactics, as Burstyn laughed, “I liked your last letter so much I think I am going to have it framed.”  The seething nightmare of having been on Bush’s ship and thus being in the amazing technicolor strait jacket of a dynastic myth made me prisoner to any claimant, black nazi, addled Seattle nut, or pal of Burstyn that Trump money could conjure, and the Kennedys barely said, “whoosh.”

       But the wind whispers, “Saoirse.”