The demolition of American consciousness began with unusable information.

     Among my evidence is a soft pornography film from Japan in the 70’s with a cover photograph that is a double of Jennifer Rubin, intimate of Elizabeth Blumenfeld, who in turn is a confederate of Braunstein, who worked with Yoko Ono on the Carnegie Museum Scam of NEVA agent Andrea Swimmer and her Carnegie Mellon extrusion laboratory for SAPZulu soundtracks.  Blumenfeld’s cousin Sharon Samuels introduced me to Gail Burstyn; Constance Bolanis, Rubin’s close friend, employed Leslie Katz and was a source for Ken Mangurten and Rocky Marciano when Peter Gabriel brought in Evangelia Karmas for Shawn Brooks.  Bolanis and Brooks were witnesses when I was attacked by a mob on my way to school and disappeared for months.  They never reported it, and lied to the contrary.

      Bolanis was also neighbor of the Fords, including Pittsburgh Police Officer Ford, whose sons led me around as a hostage frozen with trauma, threatening me, as they went into doctors offices and searched the pockets of coats with Colucci.  Ford signed me up for Social Security resulting in the card number 1984-8-97++, certain proof of the HitlerReagan war game in which Larry Flynt and Ringo Starr claimed that the haters secretly loved us by releasing AIDS for the Moral Majority and sponsoring a scavenger fight for secret narrative among a few self-inflicted war gamers willing to slasher Shannon Harps.

      The Blumen-Minis were sponsors of brutal pedophiles who tortured me at Fulton School while downtown had a XXX Theater, Fulton Mini.  Colucci used to talk about how jive Gellomini was in putting out a 20 as entrapment and when Colucci took it jumping on him.  Burstyn used to talk about jello weapons.  Gellomini said that when someone illicitly pulled a fire alarm a secret enzyme made them shine, long before Black Light Discipline and Lisa Miles covered for Mt. Desert Island.

       Since it can’t mean that! Oh, that doesn’t mean!  Oh, never then THEREFORE it must be a joke!  Hahaha, snickered Peter Gabriel, as he joked his way to infamy rippering and bombing to make mayhem entertainment for the afflicted whose friends, the attackers, top sacredly would never do that, as partners in brotherhood on principle against the queerbait who cudda saved John Lennon but was dissin’ the virgin he respected.   

       Whatever you may think of queerbait, there is no question of his potential.  The vicious immolation of the son of the Chair of the School for Education at PITT is a local infamy.  The Pittsburgh Post Gazette destroyed themselves in one last hideous act of accomplice in abomination, sanctioning serious harm to innocent people, selling Miles Kirshner’s persona about the qweewee for Gail Burstyn.  It began with an odious compromise and the Fourth  Estate was driven out of existence by the Fourth Reich.  Leslie won.  Andrea’s soundtrack provided the Friends Meeting and Catholic Worker many a laugh at the mutilation victim’s expense.

     Pitt’s Military subculture, a big game organization that includes Mel Gibson from Westmoreland County, enjoyed a Big Game sabotage of their distinguished humanist professor, my father, humiliating his son, the queerbait.   They engaged in a doctrine of maximum retaliation for insults against the murderers who brutally tortured me.  The shrill, horrific sadism of the slur campaign by Peter Gabriel sneering that I am a liar is obviously an obsession defensive action coming on strong as an offensive; because the Beatles lied about everything and are the most vicious souvenir scavengers who ever sold their snake oil on high, obviously their manufacture of Sotheby’s kiddie porn of the walrus, while tricking their most vicious mentats with the evil lie that Lennon’s double fantasy was reality, the Japanese spun the web claiming I owe Sean Lennon my life.  Let’s look quickly again at how they followed their Tokyo Rose and laced it in semiotics.  Notice the blink, from a bright flash like Nancy Moore (I love Sira Siran dippity’s camera on little boy) followed by:  Ah SO!....Pittsburgh! In this youtube clip of HitlerReagan semiotics:   Hitler’s revenge had many messages in a bottle.

       I’ve never heard that Martin Luther King went to the funeral of JFK.  This is very relevant of course when you look at how the NAACP Black “warriors” went about sneering that their confederacy with the KKK in eugenic pussyball drama activity was a ploy about mandatory miscegenation in which they took the token of spoilage as cheated of sexual domination rights by skin color.  How sexual violence entered our schools’ heritage, ask the Pittsburgh Courier.   

       I was attacked by the KKK blindside on Bryant Street after Tive showed me the vast tunnels in his Cave Hill basement that he said were the Underground Railroad.   I am dealing with a strong gang syndicate developed through the authorities who have a shared prisonized scorn for the chivalry of snitches with hired killers.   Behind the Iron Curtain of Oz, the coward Fripp, sniveling, prancing and gesticulating, turned on the queerbait after it hitchhiked thousands of miles just to hear him.  It must have seemed like the beloved ghost of an abortion following the father he loved unaware that the father had aborted it.  Working with the NSA after advertising his slight delay Roland, he tags slight delay in the keyboard, uploads grisly images, sponsors with dogs named Calhoun and Duduraq the justifications of the attackers, and lower cases to convey intelligence from the predator Gabriel.  A CO2 cartridge was outside the house to remind me of Schwartz and Kolker.

       The X-terminators are contraction happy.  Don’t say Mobay means Monsanto and Bayer.   In the criminality of their operating license the squalid and crummy psy-police of Authoritarian America will kick n’yer butt.   Half the time it’s the men who build the prisons who belong in them.   The fact that Wholey is next to Mancini don’t EVEN mean Mancine was in on holy war and Marcus isn’t suspicious in light of the grim reaper at the vagina tattoo on the island of Sanitarium Santorum, that ain’t EVEN no Israeli semiotics.  You lost to Michael Reagan.  You put your own glasses in peanut butter, it weren’t no Ken Ferri, and Craynick didn’t help no Finkelstein get no Burstyn letters so Ono could help Ostro with Swimmer.  There ain’t NO police issue in no attack prostitute attacking no neurological injury in the head by sociopathic feminist ordeal.

      Pap had Trinity in his head, a genetic predisposition to cry when rejected by someone he gave his name and life to, so they knew the Midori Goto superwave pussywhip would genetically annihilate the deteriorating European pale white  thing.   The paraquat precedent of Opium War made perfectly clear that the Arch-Conservative master jack offs Ringo Starr and Company were justified!  Justified!  In blaming the victim and liberating the murderers.   It was all company of eidetics with the Cervi Brothers starring as Ponyboy Curtis on Curtis Road, Sodapop and Colucci as Johnny, while Mr. MacIntosh with Jen Rubin’s apple sauce mug read it to us, ignored the dog earred tardy note, and they got me to spell arid ARRID to lose the bee.

      The shadow knows was in our DD marked man basement with a book about Maximille Kolbe.  Mother knew John Neihardt with his progeny Gail and Kasper.   That doesn’t mean!!!!  Crist is spellistically like Flynt and implies Crary’s Really in Serious Trouble.

       Daddy was known in Iowa as “second fiddle” and the Iowan librarian of Wilkinsburg had CRA-CRIM on the card catalog.  Bijack and Drake came in for the Riback rubout of poor old Jimmy Creary, beaten by contemptology for clean hands theory by GurmanyNazy on ElieAsian Street, cuz they don’t play with wee wee who Mendel says, “is just small,” when they Ostro-size.