I am a 57 year old deaf man with diabetes, born in the last months of Eisenhower, who remembers JFK, the deaths of Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy, whose father was radio room lieutenant on the same ship as Bush in the Navy.  I worked for the FEMA author’s Medical Library (Falk)  in 1984 when AIDS information started to really arrive, had a column at Pitt News called Ritual Dissent protesting Apartheid and the war in El Salvador, am an Honors Scholar who was homeless for two years while suffering seizures, having something to say about the congruence between schools and the streets upon whose life there have been attempts because of higher learning after significant brutality seeking to shut me out, and I am surrounded by suspicious deaths, having been used for a voodoo child in a secret war, announced more demonstratively than usual in October of 1987 when John Stockwell, author of Secret Wars of the CIA came to Allentown, PA on my birthday to talk the day after the Wall Street Crash of 1987 for which I was given the heads up, Day the Earth Stood Still, the night before.   I know who is responsible for all of this, I’m not going to argue with you about it, my obligation is only to testify.   There was no reason for anyone at Tacoma Community College to attempt to lynch me for reporting a medical injury incurred during police reprisals against the Right to Know Laws of the United States of America.  I deny wrongdoing.

      Without a doubt lynching is a terrible crime, putting the life of an innocent other on display as spectacle for the derision of the criminally deranged.   I lost music where I have an aptitude, when I was deafened as a very small little boy.   They weren’t about to stop.  Stockwell talks dramatically about losing his privacy rights to publish because of CIA controls.  As a writer, it is clear what they have been after with me, as well.   The assassins of JFK, safe in walled cities of corporate American government, are using me for their Texas Schoolbook, in a deadly match against the Right to Know and privacy.  The Texas Schoolbook is regarded from above and below as superior realism to the Bill of Rights and U.S. Constitution, a system where AIDS was an attack in an eye-for-an-eye Biblical reprisal for the sins of abortion and adultery, carrying the fiery brand of A for stigma and a scarlet letter, all of which is openly encoded, enjoying bi-racial approval.   Duvall, a black man on maintenance and Omoja thinktank for African Study heavies at a Pittsburgh Community College where Dr. Ralph Proctor of Black Horizons and Dr. Nelson Harrison of Pitt both have taught said to me in a bar, “I know Bush started AIDS and I support him for it.”  Dr. John Eskridge, also of Omoja, enjoyed access to the Texas Schoolbook as a frequent visitor to my house where it was planted on me during a childhood of hostage and serial, weird mutilation involving several black gangsters and at least one black intellectual, in a war game style operation ranging the East End of the City of Pittsburgh, in which police and their children were also involved, as well as Bell Laboratories, Hollywood Director George Romero of North by Northwest fame, the Social Security office (who gave me a number beginning 1984) and public school system who failed to note my absence when I disappeared from kidnapping for a month, ending up on the top shelf of my towel closet in tears of terror and deafness injured.

       One of the foundational mysteries in the City of Pittsburgh this is concerning is a murder at Babyland on the corner of Penn and Negley Avenues at this time in the 70's where a newspaper vendor nicknamed Shaky sold newspapers, losing his cool whenever being taunted by Dominic Migloisi (who travelled with a moneybag filled with Kennedy halves) shouting, “I’m gonna split your head wiiide open!” and where my current heart doctor David Broudy, suspected in the heart poison crime through an attache at Harborview that caused medical injuries, used to drink in his father’s bar and where I waited outside in the cold freezing in mindless terror from hostage as a child where Mark Mancine of the Romero/NEVA/VA syndicate there told me to stay for my own safety while he held conference.  It should be noted that the gang casing me for the military units in charge at the present time are suspected in the heart attacks of the brother of a girl named Christine from the children's hospital who recruited, then dismissed a boyfriend named Larry from a Seattle syndicate scene, and my deafness coach, Richard Roehm, after he offered me shelter in California.   Shawn Brooks, who locked me out of a church where I sought sanctuary and then mobilized Pitt to bar me from attending school and his deranged Christian Fundamentalist alliance with sex trafficking syndicate NEVA Corporation of Japan, named in the script I found, is strongly suspected in the murder at Babyland.  Deaf Jeannie, who was raped by them for teaching me sign language, lived in public housing on that corner for a while, as did a brutal young woman from the South surrounded by Arabs in turbans back in the 70’s.   Schoolgirl genre is very competitive in that industry.

      The reason I have mentioned my medical injury has nothing to do with personal wrongdoing.   The explicit gesture for investigating the martial law arrangement behind the AIDS attack is a signal of X-termination, a language code from the days when explicit cinema was called XXX.  In Pittsburgh it was exhibited at Fulton Mini, when I was in Fulton School first attacked by a stomach blow from Larry Gellomini, a friend of Russell Biggs, African American watchdog of car models out of Detroit, a fact they would discuss at length, with vigor together on the bus, the follow-up terror began with threats from Donald Finnegan, Donald Gruber and then terrible, brutal slaughtering attacks by Tommy Cartieri (who shot D.T. over Norma), Ronnie zSin-ski, and Kasper, an agent of Neva and British Labor who held me in a garage door floor in a paper bag breathing a gin shop slag, as I was gassed in Kings Estate, a code from Neva for heavenly estate, as the Germans called the ramp to Auschwitz.  My ear doctor had a tattoo from the concentration camps when the Schoolbook arrived from Israel.

       Obviously I cannot cover this war material in an hour, but I sign off with the reminder that Martha Gellhorn, for whom Ernest Hemingway dedicated For Whom the Bell Tolls, did her level best to address this problem with me before her death by suicide, in a long letter she typed to me in Montana from a manual typewriter in Belize.