Once there was a beautiful black race

Who could spontaneously sing

The fluting of their natural tongue

And communicate all notions by song

With room in their heart for all;

But Michauck created the inferno machine

Where only the Mind Jester was permitted to coin

The favorite jams which trilled through their souls

And he made them melody-dependent

On the Neuroguardsmens’ whistlings of soothsay,

Then sneered at them,

“What naive utopians you are,

Bring the brick and mortar for the wall of Sir Paul.”


      The militant, vicious rhetoric and breast-beating towards the rights of others is always intolerant and insufferable when banging on about their historic grievance, but the hypocrisy has never been uglier than when Black realists at the NAACP and Nam veterans covered for their role in the plan to kill Dr. King and then entrapment me through Alpana’s seduction by depicting King’s murder as a race act by white bigots, when it was an Ark concept and pussyball war game from the V.A., Pitt, Hollywood and Pentagon-Disney as we all now know.  First of all, the first person to try to kill Dr. King was an enraged Black woman.  She used a letter opener.  This symbolism is now understood in the context of the letters from the cult of Christian Fundamentalists working in a Holy War identity crime from Great Britain behind this terror campaign against the liberal interests of the United States of America.


       My medical problems trace to the idea that it was done in stealth by anti-liberal crusaders who tagged me for loverboy as a form of social defense.   In the AIDS attack, Sean Strub was a suicide bomber and they don’t care about their own lives they certainly aren’t going to care about yours.  Strub was the one hired by Sir McCartney and Hammer to set the terms of a war game evaluation concerning what I was shown by Kyra Schon.  AIDS has thrown out entirely all the humane considerations regarding wayward youth and the troubles of unwanted complications  from pre-marital sex.  The script calls the attack a Marital/Martial Law reform mandate.   One could argue, if they dared, that because I was occasionally getting high after being kidnapped and severely tortured that Sean Lennon and CMU have attacked someone who was at risk because of his father, who he claims died by gunfire, an idea that is in question in light of a script they kept quiet about in favor of lending all points of aid to those he claims were the  assassins.  The script is clear that Lennon was in on it and staged his own murder as symbol for Strub to work with through undisclosed superpower at Pentagon-Disney and Hollywood.



       Support for this notion comes from all sorts of directions, not least that the English made common cause with my own father’s killers.   Lewis Lapham of HARPERS used his clout to entirely subvert the  principles of objectivity in the  Fourth Estate in the name of the agent:  Evangelia Karmas, which is a name that simply means revenge, without trial, and as the case may have it, too against entirely innocent people.  The operator Cameron Brown from the New York Times was a sickening assassin, who entirely voided the rights of the accused in mayhem by sickening intriguers demolishing the principles of journalism.


        Like the Tuskegee Doctors in the deranged syphilis experiment, Ringo Starr made no secret whatsoever of his power house and intense smash the board determination to destroy attempts to intervene or protect the at risk, admitting forcefully in private that he couldn’t care less about AIDS, he wanted to make money from a monopoly on music, and conflated it into a vicious and sinister vision of symbolic warfare against innocent people as therapy, on behalf of those who did it.  That’s final, that’s proven -30- goodnight.  Libeling, sneering, gesticulating, attacking with everything to anthrax and beyond, he lopers with a sly leer that the queerbait is a pedophile.   Reap what you sow loutishly slanders his klansmen and Black warriors, for whom there is no lie too low; live by the sword and die by the sword they yammer.  While I am sure that children are at risk from adult predators, as I was, these murderers are not really concerned about that.  What  they did was target a child who was identified by his father as from a liberal humanist branch of learning.   They used a nerve agent.  They impacted a traumatic injury that causes seizures, then they said I am dangerous as a slander in revenge for a dead rock star and that is not only not protecting children it is allowing them to be used for vivisection.


       Online pornography exists in sickness as a natural state.  Its beauty is lost in loutish discolor and tones of poison.  The NSA or CIA or University of Pittsburgh, whoever it is all was who worked with NEVA Corporation on the AIDS attack, attempt to upload perfectly innocent sex education web searches with hideous and psychologically gruesome uploads.   Should it be that way?  The World of Suzy Wong is a novel that  discusses the impact on libertine women thrown into jeopardy by Victorian hypocrites in London, defiling our dignity with their demands for morality.  What  could be worse than finding out organized pornographers were in on the AIDS attack as we have?  Where is the Upton Sinclair of the age?  Howling that when community values are at stake no risk is acceptable is answered by a mandatory infection campaign by the same malicious vipers.   


      Our society is criminally insane.  I don’t know how it happened or if it always was.  I was born in 1960.  The fact is being encouraged by our political rhetoric.  I am torn apart by being so misused.   Peter Gabriel, a syphilis ravaged witch doctor or something has stalked and cased me with his branch of ISIS for years.  Although this rabid’s mind is capable of entertaining regret he evidently cannot stop himself due to a ravenous blood oath.  His theory which is dishonest and craven is now doctrine accepted by his sycophants in their knavery and bloodthirst.  It is predicated on the impossible chicanery of a promise to heal them by balancing their misfortune on the ravaging of innocent blood.  Converting my so-called friends into his cheering section is one of his Caligula fetishes.  The poison crime at Harborview was part of his script fulfillment to which he goes around slandering and manufacturing to feed the bloodthirst of howling supporters behind the attack who leer with hatred at a humanist in their crosshairs, an ideological selection.  Foreign English were too busy being criminally insane to care they once had a friend.

     Item:  Stuart Sheppard had a friend who lived across the street from me named Bert with a disfigured face from surgery.  He would greet him, “Heh Bert,” which is how he pronounced it.  Heh Bert.  Note that the nerve agent that ruined my facial nerve came from Heberton Street in support of clarvoyant linguistics by the Christian Invisible Army of Schugar Bear Jehovah.