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Caligula Game
by jacinto Sunday, Sep. 15, 2013 at 6:18 PM

Was Warhol another Hitler?

I don't want to call myself Yoko Ono's enemy. The word is prey, unless you could mean enemy in the sense that Martin Luther King was the enemy of those who cut him down. He was to them, not by his own choosing. It's hard to tell about what she did without playing into the myth she wants of the Japanese avenger, a Durrenmatt widow, playing a mind game to the hilt, admired in New York City and France for castrating the son of a World War Two Naval Veteran, without fair trial, over something he didn't do, which is to say, he didn't save her husband from the guns of mysterious origin, so the fact that there was no victim to carry her rape accusation mattered little in the realm of shadow state metaphor. All of this crying shame was in fact endorsed by Lewis Lapham of Harpers Magazine, despite my grandfather Ward having been a copy editor at the St. Louis Post-Dispatch.

On the opening page of my father Ryland's textbook, Humanizing the School, he writes, “the free man seeks his own interest – but if he does not seek it intelligently, he winds up unhappy; if he does not seek it ethically, he risks the loss of his own freedom.” In these words, one finds the veiled accusation of Lapham, that it does not matter where I come from, if I have violated the law, I lose my rights to the same degree. In helping Yoko Ono, what Lapham does not say is that I am innocent and that he is helping Greg Karl, one of those who authored the war crime. Greg Karl speaks of “subjecting the persona to successive degradations,” through “forces impinging on the persona's experience.” How much force? How much subjection is recorded in a blinded eye, two deafened ears, a burned facial nerve, from childhood. Pick on a child all he wants to, it would be hard to find a community other than Pittsburgh where the intelligence that a Japanese pornography giant NEVA Corporation was hustling the gradeschool children around town violently would be greeted with cheers for castration of one of their victims.

Yoko Ono is not exonerated as a source for those mysterious letters, which came down in Pittsburgh through Warhol and Juilliard. The fact that she accused an innocent person is supposed to pad her credibility as a victim. This crime, castration, effected by Seattle in her name, Ichiro's syndicate in the medical establishment, about which he publicly bragged, is a major finishing act in a macabre war game meant to symbolically level the playing field by avenging World War Two. Japan was involved in JFK's assassination, this is known from study of their film semiotics. They were involved in the AIDS Onslaught, we know this from the Two Virgins Pussyball war game that Midori Goto let Barack Obama's faction win as part of this odious installation, this accomodating President who leers privately at the excuses for mass murder.

Lee Harvey Oswald was at the Atsugi airbase. The occupation of Japan was pecuniary with respect to Geisha traffic. One finds in NEVA corporation's cinema the decencies of howitzer pussy. Clinton, who pursued Midori Goto to Iowa one month ages ago when she pursued me, had over me the Loyalty Oath. Anathema though it is to compare myself to the big monster of rock music drugs, Lennon was like Snowden. I'm not the type to Sieg Heil.

Naturally, Peter Gabriel was the wizard of media who made sure this all took place privately, and Seattle still thinks he is wonderful, despite the farce of his guerrilla warfare, the fraud of it. Since Paul McCartney evinces the appetite of Idi Amin, Gabriel evoked Africa, where truth matters little, and sided with Will Zell, a white nazi. Only McCartney could bring together a white nazi and Senegalese yammerer Youssou N'dour in the brutal rape of a deaf girl from Korea and call it a dream come true for AIDS victims avenged, which is how their collective mind, their Taliban, operates.

What I got from this is that Ringo Starr, who brought in Larry Flynt against Marie Moore, in trying to live up to the claim that, “the Beatles were the biggest bastars of all” is capable of absolutely horror brutality against someone he classified a worm, a Governor's School award winning deaf poet who crawled crying to them for help after being framed for armed robbery, and stalked by men who savagely mauled him in childhood.

I walked right into the hands of their Caligula game.

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