Organized crime has enlisted the public schools in the cities of Pittsburgh and Seattle which as a salient fact is so disreputable that voter turnout in Pierce County at 28% can almost be cartooned as the floundering of a drowning man who can’t swim. The politicians elected even laugh as he goes down for his last. Their speeches by transmigration become the air bubbles that float, pop and then stop. I think specifically of the policy of murder: Teachers involved in the murder of students. It began for me in fourth grade.
The year I was ten years old I lived across the street from Dilworth Elementary in the City of Pittsburgh. It was racist, pro-war, I wore black armbands, had long hair and peace medallions. I couldn’t fight back. The principal expelled me. I had to walk a mile everyday to Fulton which was dangerously insane with holocaust Jewry. I didn’t really make it. I ended up deaf, an object of mutilation and kidnappings at the mercy of brutal, organized pedophiles, hiding on the top shelf of my family towel closet like Anne Frank while armed men entered my family home and exited while looking for me. My mother Nancy Moore never called the police. Her partner Gail Burstyn, an agent of Queen Elizabeth, was writing to me every day, early stages in the rise of the Obama machine.
The script they were making out called me the chosen. It came from an important Hollywood studio working for Reagan, targeting me as an adopted child from the US San Jacinto on which my dead father served with George Bush, Sr.
Where it led is so ridiculous it drowns out the screams. How it led there can be draped into the mad veils of bedlam, but it is interesting to me that the governments of Gordon Brown and Bill Clinton chose as their witness, allowing what was done, someone Constance Bolanis. She employed Leslie Katz, the script’s starlet, and knew Gail Burstyn, lying about what she witnessed when I was terrorized outside of school and disappeared, yet she managed to black beret herself as their ace in the hole, owner of an East Liberty chocolate factory.
Bolanis was a neighbor of Officer Ford on the Pittsburgh Police Department. His sons were organized criminals. They took me hostage. There is an old saying that to save the country they had to destroy it. As Orwellian doctrine it simplifies to Love is Hate. Not only did Michael Ford arrange for me to have a Social Security card beginning: 1984, and take me to communion at Sacred Heart, (the Free Clinic was outside) but the card policy took aim at that very year for the AIDS attack to truly explode while the school planted me with Esther Waldron on Retrospective Conversion at the Medical Library, setting up for the British the script grab and what they called an “Experience Park,” while Constance was put in touch with Obama and the script about murdering Kennedy was made auctionable by the authors, rather than actionable in defense of the victims. Oswald the Rabbit had arrived on stage left.
Rosa Monteleone (Evangelia Karmas) was hired by the Obamas and therefore the entire United States and World Body at the U.N. to cover for the AIDS attack and hold me prisoner to torture and subject unending mutilation and terror. Towards me blame and justification for atrocity wear the same face. Wilma Coon at the school library was working with Dr. Proctor humiliating me in the name of the script, an agent for WQED and WAMO radio. Human trafficking and modern day slavery work by shadowy presumptive contract law in the subcultures of these cities but the face value is articulate enough that its roadsigns were arranged around the Kennedy assassination and Jack Ruby’s joint, which became the Big D the month after Oswald was silenced. The black bartenders cleared away yesterday’s gin and the underworld shuffled for a new deal. JFK, a playboy, was seen as presenting a false face, a persona in office, while really one of the dogs in a serviceman’s turf war over the bimbos. Rosa came in for Elizabeth Taylor in the name of Peter Gabriel was a million dollar dame to catalyze abstraction, follow the Heinz assassination, and destroy all trace of concern about Mt. Desert Island. She operated for a feminist poison mastercrime. Their depredations were so sinister as to render me traumacose for ten sad years. They attacked me in a pre-impacted poison to justify torture and punish me for whistleblowing by chemical castration. A bystander was ripper murdered to underscore a threat to the child in my family. Behind all this was Ringo Starr, a man evidently given his name by a scriptwriter photographed with Lee Harvey Oswald, a man whose first role was Ringo the Kid, someone John Wayne, so the script is worth more than the lives they exterminated, Hitler, too, looked like a real man.
How I could be fooled is the nightmare called King Crimson and their insane hostility towards someone weak who was in a state of trauma from being used in their experiment, poisoned with misplaced trust.
Ever since the Beatles played sitar with the Maharishi, eccentrics owning Les Pauls omoja’d themselves honorary minority figures by association with gurus. Pierre Elliott wormed into glam rock for a crusade elevating the super-cool to a new level of Godspell for the kill under HitlerReagan. Wouldn’t you just know that Pitt would have FEMA Africologists in place waving shrunken heads?