We all know how bucolic the Beatles are.   Their wizardry of superficial analysis has sway and staying power.   The foreign element of terror is carefully conscribed into a failsafe of trust’s longing merging Warren Report tactics with the parched license of Warner Brothers, daring us to call the Warren/Warner ticket more than a play on words.   

    Once you realize what the papers of Gail Burstyn were, a game of who owns them covers up failure to warn.  The Beatles provided high level operations management for her and her likeness appears on God Save the Queen by their regular little trooper, God Law enthusiast, Robert Fripp.   Burstyn’s screed, The Texas Schoolbook, has even been weirdly heralded as Isis Papers by the cult of chronics in her coterie.  Strategic protection services were also given to her by the Pittsburgh Chapter of the NAACP and Seattle Art Museum.  Their goal was to target freedom of speech on the most intimate level and to criminalize attempts to warn. I have been repeatedly tortured by them for testifying.

      This essay is about how Ringo Starr enhanced his reputation among the poor perverts he betrayed and greatly empowered the AIDS attack combine by engineering decision and approval for his cowardly early morning execution of the rape of a mentally retarded deaf Korean orphan girl with epilepsy for teaching me sign language, an abilifying contribution that enraged him.   This situation is an important historical legacy about the City of Seattle, his usual potty wipers lapping at his acid spitballs. Are you going to kick me out and slander me again for telling?

      The noxious and undesirable topic of rape will recur in this note as will my support for the victims.  Not so, the Crown’s women, however, who gloat, cheering the ordeal of the victims, exploiting the tragedy for hideous mire almost as though by surreal osmosis they had telepathic strap-ons filled with vengeful loin, these Fuzzy Hearts Ripper Hatter Glee Clubbers; and, of course, they have furiously wetpetted child molesters from the beginning.  In Ringo’s riot, his ministers of Reagan at Carnegie Mellon have hoped that they could pull off a psychological rape frame and not only secure the blessings for gold but for God Law, Inc., whose experimental powers still cannot be addressed, although they voided Civil Rights under experimental brain salad surgery. You DKNY or LSK25. All of which capitulated on mental health grounds despite the advertised principle of brain poison strategy diverted from Nelson Mandela onto deaf white suck, the clerk.

     Pittsburgh agents of the Beatles were not hard to arrange.  Recreational sadism is a provincial kitsch. Cyril Wecht is a puppet master of most Kennedy research cloisters who arranged my introduction to Gail Burstyn’s psychological operations division.  It was not hard to manipulate me because I was in severe trauma. The Beatles made it seem as if they went along with Mt. Desert Island in the spirit of ennui, martial drama and credulity using public faith in their cut and paste manufacture.    That they are criminally insane, seething with fraud and slander, is entirely beside the point apparently, they reckon, because Reagan didn’t know.

       Saying what they did to me was just a hotfoot prank came with the hotfoot prank like the 911 attack.  Hun bros, not hotfoots. Meanwhile, their fog and scramble machine locked down on every intimacy in which I engaged.  Civil Rights issues were violated wholesale. They deafened me as a child so their target could not rival them. They subjected me to deviants in a public school preying on my confusion, torment and deafness-induced isolation, all while selling their mindset as inescapable culture.   They impinged a rape persona with rape dialogue from Neva pornographic and forced me to respond for tape machine ensnare. By this means they cultivated support for their AIDS test war game, eliminating a white vivisection monkey and social inferior. For extra kicks they executed the play of raping my deaf advocate.

      Behind this were their own rape and death squad drama club at Harvard all along, fiends from Mt. Desert Island.  You will speak well of us hissed the Black confederates or you will be burned for a racist. While they garbled up this situation with word salad social abuse and vicious satire from volunteer STASI, administering suck from their knees, giggling with hostility and Palace derision, the Reagan machine evolved a few gesture popularizing dissent as they orchestrated the era, 60’s becoming the 80’s.

     Dissent, they lisped, is good, but not him.  Vaclav Havel and Laurel Canyon said so, as Aung San Suu Kyi smirked, oh he wants an Asian trophy queen?  Let’s give him AIDS instead, and see him try to wriggle out of pussyball Marxism by taking his little deaf chinky hostage to her utility as a sacrifice.  But who gets the pedophile films of screaming Jimmy Creary? The crying shame of the Asian Cult sequel to Yoko Ono’s Rape, cleared for Sotheby’s with a grunt as official souvenirs.