Lewis Lapham is a womanly writer who has largely succeeded in hiding incidents of profound treason in his expertise as a heritage publisher, insinuating himself close to the heart of our people for the shaft of his dagger, he was once editor of HARPERS the oldest magazine in America, although to be sure my name: Crary is far older here. Without remorse for childhood nor elderly infirmity he has subjected me to terror crime and therefore is due no remorse in sentencing. He co-authored the AIDS attack, manipulated the séance society, and stalled for copyright. Along with the Federal Bureau of Investigation he smoogies and the lowlives he bribes, they want a Svengali monopoly over investigative services and they are willing to play ball with violent pedophiles. He has promoted a script of child bondage narrative on behalf of mutilationists in the most cringing and cowardly act of masquerade in human history, portraying himself as a liberal while neighing like a donkey that no evidence exists that the Kennedy assassination was planned.
Knowing how they use language is half the battle. They are practitioners of assassination who have launched a cancer breach, weaponizing disease. The vermin sneered of “trace elements of fear” in his mission statement (a cousin of his being lawyer for the CIA). Trace elements of fear were meant by this child rapist to insinuate fear of self-incrimination when, in reality, they were trace elements of poison gas, nerve agent, brutal, slaughtering attacks, and hostage by pedophiles with IUD maidens on hand for the slur campaign of New Yorkers on the make.
The murderer knew The Beatles and King Crimson, hissed of “the tinkling of little belles” that were used to announce their agency in Highland Park at the behest of Burstyn confederate, Judge Shelley Friedman, who enjoyed the services of SWAPO Zulus despite the danger to our county. The vermin wizards of “a wish for kings” as vilifying those who were shot dead trying to keep our country safe from brutal offenders and zany woman’s day retaliationists against legitimate dissent. He stalked me with a title stolen from me, repeating: may as well have been titled after I used the refrain in a Pitt News column that served as proof of prior faith in Reagan that the powerhouse of cringing defaced with morbid lies that I was framing the President who is now clearly implicated, as Lapham knew, being his partner.
The vermin came to Frick jousting the assembly with loud drudging about James this James that, posturing that he was pontificating a department store Henry James, but nowhere is Lapham’s centrality more vivid than in his announcement of an ordeal by klieglight, and mind rape, the very epitome of the destruction of our rights, evoking schizophrenia as a Precedent Alibi for the use of brainwave sonar on an impacted neuroplasm at the pit of yammering attempt to murder a victim of horror into apostacy. This vicious, terroristic pig designed the impossible test of a date rape frame predicated on overly obedient withdrawal from consensual sex as a justification for HIV terror crime suit to promote the killers themselves, behind a Bard College damsel sicked on me at a band called, “He’s Dead, Jim.”
This high falutin rotter of mayhem is a butcher of knowledge, dandy fellow traveler of Reagan, and yes man to the sadistic venoms of Midori Goto, arch criminal. His centrality to the AIDS attack cannot be overstated.