Frank Zappa, who I met on a park bench as a child, was a mean and shifty motherfucker who was a lead liar of the AIDS attack.   He travelled with a big fat bodyguard he called Big Dragon and had a trick he liked to play on the few people in the audience conscious enough to follow and identify his verbal abuse of the crowd.  He would refer them to Big Dragon while playing his guitar loud enough to drown out what he was saying, laughing, that for those following his words and understanding the hate behind them, “It is some real Pittsburgh style torture tonight,” then he would chop his guitar into silence and say, “But you all love it, don’t you?” and the crowd would go wild.  Having pulled such a shiftless conjob on Seattle Left as never before been attempted, the Barnum and Bailey shyster Barack Obama got them to cheer him for his lead role in selling the AIDS attack, voting into office as a moral victory the very pigs who murdered so many of us, and call it a story they plan to pass down through the generations, how they ripper taunted and viciously worked to death the only person authentically in a position to try to help them and warn.  America is burning the history of their own people in the name of a few horrible snakes from Britain and their jewelry collections.  That’s a good vignette, you can take it to the bank as the only way you will ever know the truth.

     Maya Angelou, another halfwit Dear Leader on high rubbing the success of X-termination in our faces, once opined the nostrum that while details fade, the substance is lost, the particulars vaporize into dream, you always remember, she raps, how something makes you feel.  Whatever that means, it is an extremely flaky thing for a soothsayer for a publishing house mafia making a killing on support for the idea that the legendary Afrocentric gospels of ancient wrongs has eradicated the evidence of black genius, leading to the necessity of a new age of brain trust purifying thought for how it makes them feel, but the war by Angelou and Zappa from A-Z in American letters of history is intended to leave a false report as pernicious as the all-pervading journals of Dear Leader in Pyongyang.   Masquerading as a thoughtful intellectual, Angelou really means that the details of their hideous organized crimes during the Reagan and Clinton agendas will fade but you will always beat your breast in justification.  Of course, this essay isn’t really about them, the slime of the unutterable on high isn’t worth the time of day, it’s the last vomitbag message from the Kennedy faithful who have died on the job and given up.

       If you could imagine a truly deranged post-mortem on an enemy captured by a Manson type like that depicted in cinema like the film Zell spoke of called, “IT” where a rat is brought on a tray to a woman held prisoner, you understand the sort of mind that reigns in Britain.  For them, as it would have been for Josef Goebbels, the capture of a princess from America and reducing the victim not only to tears, but to begging for rape and fighting over a mouse to eat, the utter infliction of abomination, alone would be sufficient.   This history then, once found out, would be forever hidden by those who curry favor with the monsters responsible, like the Kennedys currying favor to the Zappas and Angelou.  The intelligensia of our colleges is very watchful to prevent the truth of what they hidden from being published.  The Kennedys are very sure they don’t want it to get around.  They even like the part that says they can stake their lives again in sympathy to the rat chef.

       The Kennedys are trying to save face.  They have allowed a long, terrible narrative defending organized child mutilation and they the FBI to pull it off for them, they claim it is mystically binding upon sacred truths.   It is the empowerment of stories being told at work in how Angelou twitters her deignings from the cultural imperium she inhabits.  It may not be clear how her adage about the eternity of feelings about erasures and deletions that contradict her pronouncements but it is clear her culture has a mission and stake in promoting misunderstanding where keeping tracks of the facts just won’t do at all.   With feelings on high and facts brought low, she can wheel of fortune again those stale and deceitful refrains that were their ticket to ride.

      Brutal pedophile cinema is not something one usually associates with the Kennedy Family, yet support for Manson cinema mutilationism is how they are seeking to save face in the AIDS attack.   No matter how many Kennedys they kill the assassins will always have the loyalty of the Kennedys to the killers, it is pragmatic loveslavery because the AIDS attack brought the movement into power of Black Royalists as part of the deal and wedge.  Kennedys have to buy that, because Angelou remembers how she feels, what really happened just doesn’t matter anymore.   In fact the Kennedy Family has rolled out a red carpet to Adolf Hitler, complete with this nuclear ultimatum from the Trump-Putin Pact announced as an Irish blessing by North Korea.  Hitler has assured them that he or she has made a few adjustments.  The military execution of JKFK reduced the promise of the entire victory at war to a one-hit wonder temporarily on the top of the Billboard charts and the investment in the killers is seen by Hyannisport as a shrewd investment.  Once you establish the criminal intent behind the Kennedy’s face-saving gesture you arrive at the best part:  There isn’t a more cowardly and pathetic possible outcome, even knowing this fact, the government has stopped at nothing to announce their agency as child poison fiends.

      It gets tricky when you start talking about peace in the context of a society’s spirituality.  While Americans, for example, are addicted to being abused about the past by Blacks with their own Nazi-ripper machine these days, by contrast the Japanese, their spiritual advisors in New York media, demand we let bygones be bygones.  The question isn’t whether we have learned from the past, but rather whose war criminals are recognized for keeps.  The deal cut with the KKK by Angelou’s mob is part of what is so tricky.   Announcing that queerbait’s condition was meant as a mutilation society’s idea of abortion protest, a Tweetie bird painted and slashered with tattoos made of razors blades hanging in a bathroom in Boulder, Co, the Kennedy ticket says, well then, so what, since abortion is legal.  To them the logic of normalizing Kent State to the extent of licensing Manson in the name of HitlerReagan makes good sense, even though the entire wheel of the Kennedy assassination rendered America non-functioning.  It was ten times more powerful an act than the atom bombs.   You don’t usually think of Kennedys in the company of brutal, ripper pedophiles, but in fact that is just exactly how it is by their own guisling zietgeist and announcement of terms.

      The rabid lisped that it secured intelligence that Jimmy Creary, while hostage and in trauma, asked for a dip of painting thinner in a bag.   Their reason for this mission is to underwrite that the real kids of New York trust Lennon and were more than happy to die by AIDS in the recruitment campaign from Kingdom Come, and that the fortune to made working an America deaf poet used for a curiosity in the abomination to death is by rights their own by virtue of the fact that their concept proves the child prisoner the status of a soldier who didn’t fight back in an illegal war game that became a cultural norm because the child wanted some.   The reality is far more brutal.   There was an issue of compliance being mandated by violent crime.  You have geniuses like Noam Chomsky watching every word being spoken during child development, as the ingrained machine is recording for authors from White Russia like Vladimir Nabokov of Speak, Memory fame who knew just want they wanted to spinal tap in the impacted neuroplasm so that Angelou could gripe how it made her feel.  They had it all set up.  They murdered innocent people to make themselves looked wronged in the most spiteful and sick case of Yojimbo on the books, and called it openly, “wearing their horns proudly,” as they launched a bi-racial war machine with the AIDS attack ticket, selling Barry Chad and Abira Ali through the publishing house of Penis Gabriel.  For real.

      The Mili-Tary is obviously what is wrong in America.   They construct useful enemies for parade the worms of Gail Burstyn through Gmail syndicates from Gailhouse.   King Crimson came up with the landslide concept that Leslie Katz’s virginity made them feel raped, glorifying the AIDS attack and using facial nerve poison to depict a boy battered and hiding his head from Don Ostro as trying to save face, openly and without shame, and secured the blessings of King Kong Kennedy (KKK).   Funda-----Mentalism they called the remorseless blood drinkers of King Crimson.   Oh, you hit me, they laughed, slapping their own hands together to make a slapping sound as they put a hand to their cheek.  Small wonder Rodman and Kim get along, but it is Sean Strub and Kim on display.   911, that’ll do.  

      Living with the stage rights, Dr. Proctor of Pittsburgh probably wouldn’t be any more popular with ancient African kings that I was with King Crimson, as he announces his warrior status by helping the FEMA save the old Apartheid junta by a deal and a doublecross called pussyball, but one thing is sure, even while Allegheny County clowniacs slap five at the barbership for poisoning the nervous system of a hostage white with the KKK, Jimmy’s asking for a dip was escape behavior.   They weren’t going to let me live if I didn’t play along calmly.

       While it might seem that what the Kennedys have done is simply the loathsomeness of the powerful biting off being upstaged from below by Jimmy Pimmy Whimmy Dimmy, their face-saving clowniacism goes much, much deeper than that.  The film, "Guns of Navarone," with Anthony Quinn who later played Aristotle Onasis, spells out the doom at work.   It has a moment very telling in HitlerReagan semiotics, the soundtrack says, "Those are our boys," cutting to Germans running down the steps of Greek ruins.   It's not news.  Reagan says of Goering's train car, "That's almost good enough for me," in "Dangerous Journey," implying only Hitler is good enough for him.   The presence of Chas. Bronson (the Mechanic)'s namesake in Dealey Plaza was perfectly clear message-unit wise:  His cardinal act as a human being was announcement of intent to steal a bride, the very tactic the NAACP used on me in Pittsburgh to justify how Angelou felt while lying and erasing the factual evidence.   They took the bride of JFK.  John Wayne, who rose through the ranks of the men who created the Burning Cross's use for the KKK in "Birth of Nation" was the epitome of Hollywood's cowboy war on the Indians, and he led the spree for Vichy France, allies of Japan, in Vietnam with his film, "Green Berets," and there he was in a mess hall photographed with Lee Harvey Oswald, well-luh, the Kennedy's cluck, we can't have this here, truth stuff no more, no matter how many Kennedys they kill, lie after lie.

       We learn from this what the British have Kennedy selling, AIDS was a mercy killing, answering the victims' "Death Wish."