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This and all writing of mine online is copyright James MacRyland Crary and Steven Arnold Thompson, however, the fact that his copyright is challenged by scammers from The Green Party with interest in the AIDS catastrophe is noted.
I know you were hoping I'd cross the lurkers and come report this evening, praying in your heart I'd made some headway. Here are my thoughts, old sir. Obama wanted and still wants to work an evil strategy to cover a bad and costly error of judgement. Far too many horrible lawbreakers have left their scars on me, the magnitude of the personal injury claims is shocking, yet the FBI have given orders to media to remain silent and cooperate in covering up what they found showing the absolute beastiality of what was visited upon me as a child. They need a psychiatric placebo. The mercenaries in the rock world convinced the FBI that AIDS cannot be dealt with rationally so therefore they must be allowed to experiment at dealing with it irrationally. Even in such a hostile, crazed, sickening and psychotic environment, where everyone is on the run from this African Al Capone Youssou N'dour out of terror of what will happen when the imaginary iconoclast collapses as a pathetic farce, I still fail to see why what Obama demands of me, death by HIV for his recreational besmirk, is not treated at least as seriously as demands by Clinton upon Monica Lewinsky.
Robert Fripp who arrived at Supreme Secret Service power by generational fiat in a vacuum has made J. Edgar Hoover look nightmarishly sane by contrast. I am tired of and now very ill from being humiliated by people who don't know what happened, nor what is going on. Abraham Lincoln is being brought back as a craze. He was an awkward man, but never strange, you have to admire him, he had a good sense of humor. Mark Nordenberg stood there while Ry Crary's work for the University of Pittsburgh was answered by the most heinous and brutal attacks by NAAMBLA on record, terrorizing, victimizing and now auctioning his son. Somewhere in the insane and random ellipsis that put this all together for Britain in the publishing house horror story of violent attacks on the United States the idea has arisen to bring on a man of sound mind and good sense. Do we dare to consider the possibility that the purpose is answering our civics crippled by the deranged?
One would be tempted to say if the only legacy in America were that of Pennsylvania that if Queer fascists and idiots in their folly want to immolate themselves to more magnificently ponder the fetish of Bro. Eno why not let them go ahead just tell them to leave the rest of us alone, but the role of the American Psychiatric Association is to identify those who are threatening and dangerous to causing harm to themselves and others. By what license does the Pervert Dr. White ennebriate the haters and sacrifice-holics with mumbo jumbo and unleash them on our society as though it is the only way to make them accepting and well?
It's time to point out the fraud at the root of this game, the sleazy mockery that the Teddy Boys and badboy rockers have made of Love. This business of AIDS came from Victor Frankl. In their need for the burnishment of professional superiority these sad and sappy soothsayers of Reagan's Holy War and profestations of innocence in the matter have lapsed into the sickly environment of seances stroking their chins and affirming the ghastly indecencies of Bro. Eno while chummy about Victor Frankl as holy writ. The entire obscenity was found out with the discovery of Sean Strub outside the Dakota with Mark David Chapman.
Night of the Queer Who Is Hunter was designed to move to an inexorable end and I am free to suspect Frank Herbert who murdered a little boy that I identified with almost panicking while reading long ago watching Charles Aston's house in Soul Catcher, killed by a Black man to free their spirits, who even called him Katsuk. As part of this Queer placebo we find the scripting and instead of noting among other things how weird and cruel the Japanese can be especially when the issue is revenge long-planned, we have substituted judgement calling Obama sick and deranged with the Spielberg notion that AIDS is some kind of DUNE for our consumer generation. Behind the absurd divinations and mysterian ploys of the Queer placebo offered up by the Emperor with No Clothes, someone Sir Paul McCartney, is a serious scam.
While Obama empowered Sean Strub's sickening idea of taking a souvenir to hell in the nightmare name of Ayn Rand egotology a huge delay allowed AIDS to spread and the perpetrators to live out their lives unchallenged. The guilty have entrenched in one demonic slander after another while Arnold Schwarzenegger circulated the revealingly titled book: Total Recall. In summoning back my screams like ghouls drinking blood, they have vowed that they will find something tainted so they can justify being collaborationists.
At the forked and rattling tongue of Midori Goto's hissing is never far the names Leslie Katz and Anais Nin. Lennon during his publishing days had his finger on the pulse of many elites and this case has illustrated very gravely how the AFL-CIO will call upon those elites in extreme and absurd situations. Never before has The Lesbians Suffering from Misogyny Club had such a riotous field day as they have from Carnegie Mellon and in Seattle. The presence of these unusual fringes have come up with mammoth stunts trying to convince that other mammoth stunts did not in fact also take place. Equally to the point in such bizarro company of hairsplitters, I turned down a virgin in high school for the company of a real woman which proves not only my innocence but also a very tragic scam that was brilliantly run by gang of ego people so harrible that they want to destroy the world in the name of Lennon.
Like the assassination of Kennedy the murderous cruelty visited on me has been allowed to happen, it was just a matter of convincing people to step back and let the fascist swing. Like the men who set up Oswald the murderers in Seattle need credibility or Kissinger won't intone on their behalf. While I can imagine some struggling French buggerer trying to filch some evil out of the world that abandoned him for jollies, I find it unreal that Ringo Starr threw in his lot with Gary Pitman, a horrible and violent child molester whose diabolical acts have never been aired.
I was disabled from understanding as a prelingual child, but I also was canny and lucid enough to descry the hidden walrus in the AIDS evil hour idea of Jesus as Hitler and Hitler as Jesus that found Holy Reagan at Bitberg Belsen. Gail Burstyn mentions SAT scores in one of her letters. I recall a trick question, we were warned of them, it was obvious, about confused juveniles and we were told to answer were we feeling sympathetic involvement or detached amusement? There's no need to say how the feigned sympathetic involvement of the detached and amused played out, but with the discovery of Ultrahigh, super-holograms, teleportation, neuroplastic in a traumatized child who was found from Pittssburgh in St. Louis after being framed for armed robbery after winning a Governor's School Scholarship deaf being interrogated by murderers looking for some answer to Nabokov's jest that misreading mountain as fountain proves the existence of God by a fluke. They're stuck with their fraud and assassinating a white used maniacally by John Lennon in a war game is a very easy sale in a reverse racist world.
Frankly, I refuse to trade copyright for my life. They wrote a book in my name. I'm entitled to answer it with my life intact and safely, however, I do now know one thing there is no reason at all to believe that John Lennon really died that night.