This letter will make you sane. It will grant you something you have sought: dignity and empowerment without conditions. As you read you will be restored. My essay respects you as a person. Your tears can be proud tears for once. The overlookers who tell you what is what and when to believe are temporarily gone. They are banished by this essay for so long as it is in your hands. The book it is written in cannot be burned for its flame is eternal. Its reach will arise beyond the ashes.
I saw it as if descending from the heavens like the dance of birds charmed by the wind and stuck out my hands to catch it for you for whom I know it was meant to wear, a joy to celebrate, its vulnerable protection in your heart, soul and mind.
One by one the factors must file to fall into place. The mind is a bullshit detector with power of erasure. Were ten million copies of this liberation in print, it’s thesis known in every house, were it wrong you need not struggle. The falsehood would vanish under the blink of your more knowledgeable eye. Do not invent fear where there is no need. Prepare yourself instead for emancipation by encounter with a floodlight on our nation’s enemy within. I will disallow their trickery to come between us. Let the enemy bark at the manuscript until they go mad.
There are on rare occasions concerning complex matters passing moments where in grasping what arrives one asks myself why did I understand that? This does not announce that you agree, only that you have been made aware of an idea that comes across. For example, in understanding as an absolute contract between us, word is bond, that this essay is about Donald Trump’s spiteful role in the assassination of President Kennedy, an act which laid us low from which he purports to make us great again, your skepticism will arise and ask now how is that possible? Yet were you hoodwinked by the thesis? Not at all. It’s just clear. In showing how it happened you are not asked to agree, simply to allow the evidence to be admissible at which point I promise a passing moment where you will ask, now why did I understand that? I won’t go on to say this or that is true only that because I understand so well from years of investigation and study that I want the possibility to exist that you will, too. I don’t think you can understand without reading. It’s too much of a mirage. Suffice it to say that the master of fake news had a master plan. I will show you that plan.
It originated at Carnegie Mellon University back when it was a smaller place known as Carnegie Tech and a brilliant criminal named Herbert Simon arrived with a blueprint he called, “machine intelligence.” In time we would find this blueprint but only after it had been transferred internally under Reagan to the office of Alternative Conflict Resolution (ACR) under Granger Morgan and George Bush. These titans of finance and government of course were uploaded from the wings successfully after Kennedy was shot.
The cold wind of Reagan’s hand has blown. The grim material from Hitler’s escape to Mendoza and the meaning of Caspar is no longer news. We also have shown the war game which made Obama the beneficiary. Donald Trump fell right into place after tipping his hand. The question is whether this outcome was predestination being illustrated in the blueprint of Herbert Simon’s master crime. You should be laughing now, don’t tell me that James MacRyland Crary, formerly of Pitt News, menace to African Scholar Magazine, thinks it is? Why abandon pursuit of such merry quotation? There is no cut off switch anywhere in the void powerful enough to protect you. The Christians say you must hear the word of Jesus to be saved. You don’t need to hear of this for it to be true.
On March 1, 1959, more than three years before the death of Kennedy, Lorraine Hansberry, author of Raisin in the Sun, made a topical list of sometimes contradictory ideas that belabored attention paid to popular media of her time. One of them reads the idea that, “Business men are hard-headed if slightly adorable realists who are also the supreme moralists of a culture who work like they are keeping the world going in spite of people who lack drive and initiative like intellectuals and most working people.” It was said to me by James W. Child of Reagan’s Iceland team, “Reagan was elected because people associated him with a good business climate.” It is an idea often evoked for shrugging off the Kennedy years, despite their lost potential for appeal to the young and our potential for diplomatic miracles. But it is a smokescreen.
Machine Intelligence in some ways is more like a dog than a human being. If a dog thinks you have food it will sniff your hand and begin barking whether it is bread or meat. A cultivated person by contrast will only eat wrapped bread from clean hands and well cooked meat, while expecting to be asked in advance if they are hungry. Similarly a smoke detector will not ask is that being blown from a cigarette carefully controlled or from bacon smoke arising under running water. It can assume quite wrongfully that a great blaze has been airblown, billowing uncontrollably, and begin sounding deafening alarm as hot as a schizophrenic Cold Warrior announcing their Red Scare as proof of enemy invasion. This is one reason that the Y2K hysteria at the laying of the wreath at Bitberg-Belsen, made so many people squint. Our tolerance for films like Red Dawn has not however allowed us to match wits with Trump and Simon.
Satanists and comic book artists know the use of the Pentagram. What I will be exposing in talks about Donald Finnegan, Donald Gruber, Donaldo Gilligan and Greg Starsinic takes up from where we left off with Two Virgins Pussyball clocked by the AIDS attackers allowing the belfry of Ichiro Suzuki to chemically castrate the symbol of the Pacific War. I site as example the way in which the poltergeist of the AIDS attack appeared in support for George Bush on the cover of Texas Queer Magazine, someone Midori Goto. The murder of JFK was intended by Trump and Simon, by all their British allies in godlaw and acid rock, as an aphrodisiac for Japanese women, and for sale of trivia known as collectibles.
Trump is not here to take care of people in pain. He isn’t here to validate them or give them comfort. He is here to heap spite upon them. He is here, like Robert Fripp, the witch doctor of the Attilla Ringo Starr, to open his hand by expressing concern for our greatness, while pocketing all the profits from that greatness for Fripp’s secret investments in Bayer and cyanide. How can one make America great again when they are the ones that brought us low?