To destroy my life and for no other reason the rabid animal claimed the nerve agent was irrelevant because I was under suspicion of date rape. This was organized crime and completely spelled out articulate for its formula dimension in their script. It called down the name of John Lennon as a form of totalitarian bias. In reality I was not under suspicion of date rape and the nerve agent was the medium they used to stoke the rumor that they started. The magnitude of this crime is an indicator of the total barrier to public understanding that has been allowed to child raping monster Penis Gabriel in his macabre casino of promoting false sponsors. AND this child raping raping rabid animal did this as a pseudo-scientific service to the KKK as a sale to the NAACP wing of the Military Industrial society of common cause in the AIDS attack, gesticulating against the white purposefully excluded from the Bill of Rights for ongoing vivisection, a voodoo doll for racial ravagers, entirely symbolic as the termination of Shannon Harps made clear. This is syphilitic police science made Administrative by Authoritarians, not art as Gabriel ravenously gesticulated. He had all kind of thinking man’s greed playing like this here and that there on the make by fast lies for the spoils; OPENLY by way of Cineaste Film Quarterly and Asian Cult Cinema magazines marketing museum mafia pedophile films in black markets for Warhol’s society of real raping my deaf advocate and the horrors of what was done to me; while they licky chopped with Lennon’s name as billboard; don’t say Jewish like Oliver Stone.
There is a world of indicators; Gail Burstyn wrote, “I’m about to start sending you ESP signals,” while calling attention to the semiotics and fluxus at work in Axis cinematographers working with Reagan, resonating loudly in the graphic Cineaste bordered my letter with, an image from 1980 evoking the usher at Regent Theater during the Incredible Two Headed Transplant that the brain surgeon Wattenmaker took me to before the near lethal head injury. RS was on the make with Foreign English all in business with the hisses of slander city.
Penis Gabriel was always like the Karls. They had a taste for jests like The Tiger in the Toilet by Claude Balls; and the Diary’a Sisters by Lucy Bowles and Carrie Paper, but you ain’t allowed to hear the homophone in Gail Carolyn Burstyn.
Pap had the saying that called the tune: Let’s not and say we did. There’s no body by the way.