Although the usual malicious scene hounds the attempts to warn, this writing of Feb. 2017 will attempt to raise new questions and show new territory in the investigation helpful to protecting digest and subverting sabotage of the urgency, a mockery originating in foreign London, the authors of the menace. What I cannot do is keep going over the elementary issues for newcomers or accomplices who keep barging in with the same questions and denials. You need to read around my large collection of web writings to understand how this unfolded and who assassinated the liberal generation. I work hard for Our Commonwealth. I deserve better than what was done to me. If you try to get help from authorities they will only turn on you. What is clear above all is that the groundwork for investigation is an occupied zone. The authors do want us to know, but not in the sense of allowing investigation. They want to enlist our silence in cold, tragic realization, and leave it at that.
The assassins have a showcase of sorts in the theater of the real. Robert Fripp once punned that he used his lyricist Sinfield for a barometer. All of us observed to some degree the way they used me for a war toy, but I am referring to goes beyond that. We live in an age of coding. There are many codes. No just police codes, but codes are used for programming languages and various methods of shorthand. Language itself is based on the alphabet which itself is a code. It is important to evaluate code in the presence of specific incidents and activities which prove the criminal and military operation that they expose and address the evidence of Federal collusion and authorship. For example, the fact that agent James Kasperowski was working for Robert Fripp is clear from a number of specific actions taken by them in tandem. I was attacked blindside in a signature act of brutality by Kasperowski walking to school as a gradeschool child when Fripp announced his warlord agency. I was attacked again blindside ferociously when Fripp took measures to protect Gail Burstyn by blaming me for the codes in her script about which I understood nothing as a hostage child. The two blindside attacks go further. Having been shown to be a partnership between the KKK and Black Panthers operating for London out of WQED the blindside attacks bring together Kasperowski as an agent of Ringo Starr and Gail Burstyn as his pen writer.
All of this implicates Yoko Ono as the moneybag and strategist behind the plan to kidnap the Chair of Education at Pitt into a Jewish landlord crime ring as a persona to be sexually trafficked and incinerated for a ghoulish Hollywood sale. Peter Gabriel, providing attorney Amanda Harcourt for Ono, gave an edict that uncertainty about AIDS infection was a punishment, and he proceeded to rape my girlfriend, torture me with biologicals, slasher Shannon Harps and advocate for the KKK and Black Panther alliance by unleashing bombing attacks and Isis leader Youssou N'dour on innocent people, while stalking Our Commonwealth with sacrificialist homicides. He claimed this was a stabilization riot after the release of the AIDS attack by Her Majesty's Government, in a wicked farce of Pin the Tale on the Donkey.
There's nothing paranoid about any of this. My course book in Corrections decribes gangs in prisons as regarding Non-Violence as a counter-norm. Acts of violence are conscripted to mandate inclusion in the gang. The British wormtongue was eely with viperocity. It creamed through Yoko Ono's publisher, "Open Your Box!" as a deadly ultimatum to surrender to their trafficking, while leering that they had the right to chemically castrate me for refraining from forcing myself on Gail Burstyn's partner Leslie Katz even though she was prone with her vagina on my tongue nightly for hour for months going on a year. Then to make it sound reasonable of them to blindside me again, they set upon my home with horrific invasion through an attack prostitute representing their KKK and Black Panther team at WQED named Rosa, a signifier of the Green Party run by Rosa Clemente, one of the more glaring codes. Since I fell in love they claim they own me. They rendered AS IF I had wronged Leslie Katz, just for the sadism behind such an ordeal, declared me: An Empty Set on the morning after 911 by giving me the Black Spot, and vowing that they want me diseased, saying so openly and spitting in my face with, "If you wash we'll be offended." To sum up this horrible attack by the British (our ex-allies, along with ex-allies in Israel) they laughed at me with the agent Exler. Note the puns in the code: X-slur, Ex/hit/ler, all too good to be true in the denial game of the AIDS plan.
I was identified as a child by Neva Corporation, who use images of Jennifer Rubin and Gail Burstyn in their 70's packaging, as local Black Mafia as having a special place in American Heritage. My mother Nancy Moore was partner to the package to deny that I am deserving of anything at all. The Blacks have advised that any attempt to make what was done to me more horrible by noting my innocence and beauty as a child will be violently punished as courting racial favoritism. Anna Cooper writes sagely, "The training of children is a task on which an infnity of weal or woe depends." She writes, "It is she who must first form the man by directing the earliest impulses of his character." Nancy Moore tells no end of lies for Mark Mancine, who horrifically molested me, to defend her second marriage. John Lucarelli, this attending husband comes from Elmira, which is encoded in the script for Mark Twain's presence with the signifier, "Mark Mark," who is called a "boffin." Elmira is the home of the first reformatory. Likewise the most terrible prison was in Cummins. Lucarelli directed me to complain if I wanted to Frank Cummins, his friend in campus security, myuh.
The assassins were joined by Failure to Warn apologists in Seattle claiming high art motives in leering and catastrophically voiding our civil rights foundation with new technology, braying of a neurobacteria they hint infected my skull. They have a recipe they claim describes my behavior, with a farcical screed by Nancy Moore more violent to the truth than even the scurrilous Warren Report. Why, okay, oh, oh no! Why do I owe apology and punishment? For trying to be like Lennon they cream. Y.O. Y, ok, o, o, no. Hahahahahaha.
They exhibit without any compunction the presence of wordsmything.
Hallow/Holo/Holy/hollow/Holly/halo, etc. Carter/Karter/K.Arter/King Arthur, stealing a deaf man's life work, demanding I be mutilated and put to death to say face for the crime team and its allegiance to a morbid, odious monster guild, once led by Reagan.
Masquerading as friends again, Seattle Art Museum had an Aubrey Boynton send me a statement that she had written to Donald Trump asking him if he wanted a used tampon. This shows the deranged alliance of Yoko Ono with Donald Ostro yet again, because among the acid filth he poured into my crying, hated, hostage mind was his leer that "God is a used tampon," an adage beloved to ripper Queers who regard wound as a dialogue about whether the bullet is worth more than the Jew, when splashing in their self-regard as totemic pisschrists.
The script is a quiz on the pun of Martial Law as Marital Law. They speak of Nobuko's Stupid Code of what boys should do and girls should do. Nobuko was the star of the film: Children of Hiroshima. AIDS was the Little Girl bomb in reply to the Little Boy. 911 was foreign England's sneaky claim the assassins they support stole an H bomb. No one knows why Trump knows more than anyone about Isis, but it's worth looking into.