In his crazy, skinhead-type, race-phobiac, hate-baiting, juvenile film, Do the (quasi) Right Thing Spike ole Lee is seen soliciting violence towards his brother from a younger Italian, and out come tumbling the black psychologists. To understand how Do the Right Thing was conceived and set up as a dry run by Lee and his pals working out an alchemy for civil unrest, you need finally to be told the story of how I got mixed up with King Crimson and Peter Gabriel, and saw from the inside their plotting with Donald Trump during the AIDS attack, and how the shadowy magical mysterian elements of Rodney King were there for subconscious shock value, perceived but never dared brought to light, and how this played out in a victim on victim political madhouse that our poker dominion calls law. I have been to school five years learning how to explain to someone who doesn’t have time to learn their music (sic.).
There is a film noir movie in which a man announces, “I would like to report a murder.” When asked whose he says, “My own.” Like me, he had been given a spectro-chemical shown (shone) luminescent and doomed him to die. In my case, the killers openly wrote a script about it, misrepresenting my life in the manner that Robert Penn Warren defamed Huey Long and the FBI determined it a masterpiece and told them go ahead, executing the play of a deaf girl’s rpae to consolidate their hold on the textual flow that Ringo Starkey desired. The Army propagandists asked for and received assistance from the American Medical Association. The editor of Harpers called it a “cautionary tale”. To simplify things they brutally inflicted terrible brain damage in order to confuse me and used acid rock gaslighting to trigger the impacted neuroplasm into what they hoped would be self-destructive seizures.
Then they left it to me to write their macabre and unholy narrative for them as defense against sadistic, prolonged, serial dismemberment. All of it an act of government. Sort of tears your heart out if you have one, and though no man with such injuries can be Mark Twain they did selection me as part of his heritage stock, knowing for one that blacks would seethe with venom at the THE WHITE!!! And for another it was perfect revenge for the military he put down over the Philippine War. They would use deranged impacted satire and extrude its memory as a lesson in laughingstock: the exterminate a mockingbird.
Faced with the truth, Pittsburgh Police put up a shrill harpy for the symphony screaming in bloodcurdling performance, “who do you think you are? Robert F. Kennedy??” Ironically and coincidentally as the Jews laugh and the crow flies, the assassins had spraypainted, “I love Sira Siran,” on my garage in 1966, a photo found stapled a hundred times to a MLB card.
I was delivered to the Jews as part of Operation: Stork. Being put to death by the NAACP for being white as tissue paper of a strategic super-script is supposed to be compensation by Erasmus style tribute; for what does an egotistical community offered the buffoon task of anti-Christ want more than to be allowed “to perform for” them as the legendary walrus, they gibber in mockery and lewd, delighted derision.
As for (Ro/Ki) the spirit perceives and it is the perceiving spirit, the Wiccan transgender General of Martial Law which has been proclaimed the vehicle used for their performance, leading at long lost to the swimmer pole of Liverpool. It’s not like Elton the Elder just stepped right up to volunteer for King Edward and Reagan. He knew and lay in wait.
Do it Right, always a diversion and part of the lesson plan, was a sale of mayhem conjured by Trump and the giant control tower in NYC to set the syphilitics clucking over unpaid riches due to the strongest victims.