Murder is in season in the United States and several of our foreign allies have been granted license to take up the sport, with their first toast a laugh at police; for why should they not laugh? In their most ruthless and cold-blooded acts of exampling, they have enjoyed the entire leverage of New York media while police reclined knowingly in their sleepers. What the White House pulled by the AIDS attack included a production company who made perfectly obvious their program of enlisting the unconcerned and unaffected into acceptance of the war crime as though it was an act of justice. After failing to secure complete, compulsory blackout on discussion of the crime, they took the other road of rubbing our faces in it while calling awareness of what was done a sinister bent of paranoia in the mind. In all of this they have counted on everybody to pull together in a fraud of corruption that is largely seen as friendly corruption. Not many people read me, far fewer than those who read (still less understand) Rabelais, they don’t make time, they don’t see the point, but making text possible that discloses what really happened in Pittsburgh during the Reagan age and the true meaning of Obama, is a phenomenal gesture on my part, who was tortured and is still being hunted.
Since the City of Pittsburgh was central to this calamity and strange names like the Beatles and the Palace of London are primary confederates in the dastardly act, there is almost no one else who could be expected to provide information, since I lived in that city, knew the Beatles indirectly through Peter Gabriel and was targeted. Naturally enough, for this reason, I was poisoned in the heart and my loved ones attacked very viciously in ongoing warning at their instigation, much of it from among their fans in the victim lobby, a laugh at you, see they believe us, act of bully politics. I have been to court, but the simple truth is there is a conspiracy of judges on the bench who do not respect me or themselves enough to allow the serious evidence to be rendered admissible. They have even laughed at me in their prose, as though that is the appropriate response to a late deafened poet (and Honors student) in middle age trying to protect his peers from a beast of prey.
NEVA corporation, Japanese pornography, is known from the script and text of what London construes as a work of art, and is named as a primary partner with Lucas Studios in Hollywood control of the intellectual weaponry brought to bear on the scope of this atrocious achievement. Their symbol is a “c” in a star of David that symbolizes the food fight squabble for copyright evident in the uploading by Gabriel of Amanda Harcourt as a broker of intellectual property for the NEVA alliance with Yoko Ono when the British, who co-authored the script, claimed to have discovered it (naturally with the help of an agent from 20th Century Fox, David Lucarelli, then living in my home as an unwanted stepbrother). Hollywood has wanted to broadcast a slanderous rendering about me for the production team in question, and have curated the hostage films and material evidence developed when I was kidnapped and held in bondage as a child, promoting that the insane Manson crime in which I was mutilated wasn’t significant, Dr. Nelson Harrison denounced me in the class with the words, “you aren’t special,” in the manner of rapists spitting on their victim. If I like my eyesight, they conveyed, I will back off. The script made clear that taking away my ability to hear was planned. This evidently isn’t illegal in the State of Pennsylvania, but it is forbidden to warn the parents of the children in their Public School system, being groomed as merchandise. The criminals came right out of the bag into the open and had as their primary allies the blacks of the Pittsburgh NAACP. Duvall of the school where Dr. Harrison works, both black men, said to me, “I know Bush started AIDS and I support him for it.” Faced with the script, Dr. Ralph Proctor said, “I don’t care about any of that.” This arrangement makes perfectly transparent and understandable the meaning of the phrase: by any means necessary.
Heinz Museum, Carnegie Mellon, Pittsburgh Catholic, WQED and University of Pittsburgh provided the management and financing that allowed Dr. Proctor and his nephew Dr. Harrison to pull off Obama’s itinerary in the caseload without being caught or identified by anything resembling civilization. Dr. Proctor admits openly of characterizing his activity as an African warrior at work. He doesn’t mention that his handlers were the white supremacist power structure of apartheid South Africa acting through Carnegie Mellon in the attack which was brokered by Pitt as part of deal with Dennis Brutus, a partner of Nelson Mandela, in return for the end of Apartheid. AIDS, again, was the means for a goal for which any means necessary was valid. All of the darkness and cruelty of Pittsburgh as the control tower for Hitler’s revenge, and the principle executioners of the crime, the NAACP, comes out in Dr. Proctor’s book: Voices From the Firing Line, which was self-published, although, to be sure, worse things are print from the mainstream.
Dr. Proctor describes a woman working for the caricature of a cowardly white, who confides in her and trusts her that she isn’t with those mean militant people. Proctor laughs as he describes her giving inside information; such folks, he says, “pretended to be “above the fray” when, in actuality, they were providing much needed strategic information.” What he leaves out is that his handlers were white South Africans when such a woman, Wilma Coon, was planted on my work station when I was viciously sexually attacked in a neuroplastic head injury by Obama’s White House page, Rosine Monteleone, in the lead up to the rape of my deaf advocate, Jeannie Tamburro. The white supremacist, David Douglas’s father, whose son had the ear of Dr. Proctor through WQED where Proctor worked with Matt Marcus, a leader of the Absurdist Theater division, told me, “If you try to help Black people they will only turn on you.” Imagine them laughing as I believed I could confide in Wilma Coon of my deepest love for Rosa and my marriage dreams. Proctor writes of his friend Nate Smith. “When I knocked out my first White boy,” says Nate, “I was a little bit scared, I thought that they would come after me. That was the first time I realized that you could knock out a White boy and get away with it! I had thought that they would lynch a Black man just for hitting a White boy, and here I was knocking White boys out! When I found out that you could get away with it, I knocked out every White boy I met. I also had thought that White men were invincible,” Smith laughed. “I loved knockng out White boys!” Smith’s eyes practically glowed,” writes Proctor. So we see how much good a savagely administered, “brutal fortissimo pounding,” to quote a white Pittsburgh Catholic ally of Proctor and Douglas, Gregory Karl, can do, and how much more satisfying it can be made for the Black man and African warrior to go along with such catastrophic hate crime than it would to resist in the name of human dignity.
“Pittsburgh,” writes Proctor, effortlessly and without trying to conceal it, “has always been a very provincial town. In the Black communities there was a tendency to distrust folks who were from out of town. It was much harder for folks with no Pittsburgh roots to be taken seriously as leaders. Beneath the surface, one could hear the whispers, “What the hell does he/she know? How can they lead us? They ain’t even from Pittsburgh.” Perhaps that is why Proctor couldn’t care less about the letters by sex deviants extolling their murders of Dr. Martin Luther King for NEVA Corporation allies like Peter Gabriel and the death of Roberto Clemente. Such men as my father Ryland, a White seeking to help integrate schools and promote Black advancement, was a bridge way too far.
The Woman’s Center of my school, (CCAC), made their stand for Obama around a fraudulent claim pitched to hysteriamania, hiding horrible sadism, based on a trumped up stain of low respect for women, to promote a campaign of absurd theater, and it was all prior scripted and acted out, with me as an uncomprehending stage dummy who had been badly mauled with an impacted nerve agent leaving me deaf and semi-conscious as I responded to their cues with various degrees of disbelief and bitter satire. They didn’t stop there either. As they escalated and murdered, notoriously a ripper hatter crime in Seattle, presided over by the Black Panther/Green Party honcho, code named Aaron Dixon, they turned up the volume on Hollywood’s interest and brought in maniacal heavy hands as warlords, including Martin Sheen, through the Catholic Worker office of Vince Eirene, and Mel Gibson, through his father’s office in Westmoreland County. Gibson had been presented to me by the gang’s attorney Miles Kirshner who supplemented the cue with Trinity by Leon Uris. How sad that my Trinity-dad was also so easily manipulated by a broken heart. Westmoreland is to where I corresponded in the Reagan Era with the chief of the Federal Emergency Management Agency plan, someone Wesley Posvar, then Proctor’s boss in Pitt Administration. Proctor also worked with Tom Ammons whose Ark/Artek gang set up a sex and death mission with the Salk Labor gang who by their own admission kidnapped and gassed me as a child at a place called Kings Estate, for Jewish holocaust survivors writing the script with NEVA Corporation. Peter Gabriel was hard after the copyright in the star of David from his position as a crony of NASA.
Gabriel solved the problem not by protecting the civil rights of the targeted in the AIDS attack, but by penning alibi smears while escalating upwards into new license for impunity, home wrecker, carnage and voiding of rights and guarantees. He did so by lies impacting on a tormenting, anguishing neuroplasm head wound causing seizures, while invoking morbid new development for public mockery that gave him the rube of Palace experimenter. Britain’s bombs are lying. They knew all along. Voices from the experiment known as Rev. Wright Brothers, Mr. Wright, Escalation Dominance, Ultrahigh, Yammerwave, That Voice Again, ESP Signals, NASA Truth, I’d Love to Turn You On and MindRape Sonar (there may be others) have been a fact of my life since 1994. While I am awake they are constant , banging on about what a humiliation I am, but, until now, it has been too dangerous to talk about or explain what they mean. This war crime was justified as a branch of Obama absurd theater developed by Gabriel as a Federal profiler from New York media hellbent on derisive profiteer for the future King of England, code named in the venture, King Crimson. His market for Hollywood, noteably the assassin DeNiro, derives from the impotence of knowledge in American society.
My essays are defensive essays, not belligerent ones. The text of the allegation claims my crime is in not having known what was going on as a battered child. That means they admit I didn’t. They say I had no right to not know. I was attacked blindside and was targeted. It was a mutual interest accord between the KKK and the NAACP, a 1-2 punch, succulent not merely for knocking out a White boy (smile Jimmy C.) but for wasting a pale white liberal thing who thought he was better than us. Having been targeted this way I have been forced into defensive slave labors. Key figures, some prominent, some unknown, ideologies, including the voiding of human rights by civil rights brokers, attempts to reduce study of patterns to useless text, as well as historic events, some local, some national, form the iron web. Since the assassins have money and power I am trapped. They are murdering others all around me. I have been repeatedly tortured, molested and poisoned. I am dealing with the criminally insane.
The assassins control a bandwagon. I have been attacked by their followers. The attackers reasoned that if they successfully planted the papers on someone they humiliated that horrendously that the doctrine of Death Before Dishonor, which may be suspect as a tattoo on the arm of Skrewdriver punk fan, would hold sway among their afflicted fans, who could be crudely turned on their prey as a cowhoove to gnaw on lest they bite the truly guilty. What this all means is that they aren’t about to stop voiding fair play, or listen to the truth. Those who helped the assassins will no more talk about it than the Indians who cut down Gen. Custer which is who their allies caricatured me as at Carnegie Mellon, raising interesting questions about Sherman Alexie, and his basketball fetish being shared by Supreme Leader in North Korea.
I worked at Falk Medical Library in 1984, corresponding with Posvar, unaware that he had authored the FEMA package which was to become contraversial when the Ed Meese-Oliver North lobby who Peter Gabriel’s attache Robert Fripp coordinated ProgRock operations with the Society for Military Engineers invoked it for a plan to use it for mysterious concentration camps in California. What was going on? The Society for Military Engineers in Edwardsville, where Dr. Peg Simons, a friend of my mother’s closest friend in her high rise old folks home, Dr. John Eskridge, a faculty peer of Dr. Ralph Proctor, had a Feminist Journal going, boasted of their proudest creation, a baby kitten so traumatized by terrible Trumpian sadism that in fits of maniacal glee for being given attention could not stop peeing everywhere.
In pseudo-disclosures offered by the government of peter gabriel misleading word games were offered by those making decisions for everyone while bragging of being unconcerned and unaffected. I had reasoned correctly, still unaware of the nerve agent acting on me internally, that mandatory testing efforts would be next and that adroit response could surface into the open premeditated entrapment operations. This hunch was vindicated when FEMA immediately began uploading this phase of the program, calling me to Mt. Desert Island, after Coming Home Council of Cervi and Wen staged a reckless driving incident for their lethal Absurd Theater at Kelly School. The fact of the Orwellian tyranny coming from the desks of Pink Floyd is obvious now from the letters of Peter Gabriel written to me at the time, giving Joni Mitchell’s view that the celebrities were the important ones, herself a crony of Roger Waters in Pink Floyd. So the question: Did the Beatles start AIDS or simply advocate for the murderers as their production team, is unworthy of ridicule, because a pattern running throughout. The content of their character is well worth having been given some proper description.
The season of murder we are entering allowed in the past for Israel to use nerve agents on American children, while their open mic bullies, willing to whore their poetry in the name of slander, laugh off the AIDS attack as boring old news. The effect of women on freedom of speech should be noted. Dr. Proctor, for example, had me in his house and I met his wife, whose new age Japanese paintings found me causing shudders for not knowing what to say. However, targeting the deaf white suck in the marriage bed by the hiring very woman he loved was not beneath the killers. All of it secretly filmed, like the rape of deaf Jeannie, by NEVA Corporation mafia at Warhol Museum for Yoko Ono.