As you know I am a client of ADWAS and a little remarkable for having secured a letter from Martha Gellhorn acknowledging my testimony of having evidence that Reagan started AIDS secured prior to finding Lennon assassination materials being used by Peter Gabriel to orchestrate approval for Reagan while framing me as some sort of raping monster. Gabriel got away with this heist and farce, and set upon Jeannie Tamburro, a deaf girl, and raped her, while trafficking me through terroristic social abuse. The Veteran's Administration would not allow me to have that valuable letter. It was all that I could do to try and take it to the attention of the Gay Alliance at the University of Iowa where I doubt anyone knew who Gellhorn was, a great pity. The very cover of an edition from one of her old magazines is for sale $35. The substance of the issue is a National Security claim that the spirit of the crime and of America is in jeopardy and in better hands among English lopers who aided and abetted Reagan.
There is a lot of confusion in Seattle about what it means to be a human being. The right wing are not far from right in attacking the street junta who live to cause suffering here as stepping on anyone who can do things they can't, gratuitously. Conversely the haters from the Left are dead right that the values of the so-called Tea Party are ideologically the antithesis of American values.
The situation has brought about, through validation of the Godfather politics of the V.A., which my landlord for example sits pretty enjoying, is the victory of parochial intimidation. I get stalked by 3500 the number from HAIR of "prisoners in distinguished race town." All of the items I bought today at a Thrift had the left hands cut off. You see, the V.A. is selling the humiliating ultimatum that I endorse the AIDS Onslaught, commited in my name, if I ever want to see Midori Goto alive again, and she is too spineless an engineer of this catastrophe to scorn such posse comitatus. Makes you wonder if Plessy vs. Ferguson weren't tongue in cheek Pussy vs. Furgason.
Clinton Allah bitty keep your money, I'm not your War Bride.
The Black Veterans' Administration belligerenti worked a miracle for Obama and Colin Powell. They justified the catastrophic release of AIDS by making me out to be a justified human guinea pig. All this talk about spirit and the fagmo coalition are like, we git to git our yaya's out raping your girlfriend and poison you because that's just how we feel. Today they leer at me over their union stalking venom counters with the symbol 3 for a woman in Hong Kong I befriended. No woman would be able to suffer such humiliation and they know it full well. Oh, we're Jeannie's friend, they now intone, she wants you to forgive. So do the lopers at Sound Mental Health who see an easy halfway to cheat of a lawsuit settlement.
They act like they took my hard-earned letter from Martha by right of grievance and that if they were forced to give it back they'd have the right to spit on me while doing it. The crime itself was scripted logically enough if you believe that sex is evil. It's a burden of moral relativity, they're like, here, asshole, go save the world, we poisoned it to make it easier for you.
The murderers from England probably do have the power to declare me an orphan, enrich me, set me free, let me elope with someone who could do me some good. One has to laugh, even maniacally, at the glee that El Centro La Raza exhibited playing the role of rabid repressor. Not one of these felonous ogres has the slightest idea what a neuroplasm is or feels like. They sent me a postcard about people murdered trying to escape Mexico to freedom in the States. Checkpoint Aaron Dixon down at the Ku Black Klavern of slave love.
What the foreign rabid sells isn't the dignity it claims. At best it is a quality of life argument aimed at convincing the elect of HIV positive assassins that feel good murder, rape and torture is in the interest of the global village, covering, by the way, for the fact that these same rich death harvesters are covering up the truth about Mt. Desert Island.
They think it's a joke. Sen. Harkin and Ming Na Wen had actors clapping their hands Shinto style when I was homeless in seizures and living in a cockroach dive you will kill somebody if you saw the immigrant children being forced to live in right across the street from City Hall in Davenport. Across the hall a soul murderer had a sign, "Don't Touch the Door!" Everybody knows the V.A. of Massachusetts shot dead the Blue House and five city cops to make sure that everyone knows they support the Seattle Union decree that I never be allowed Midori Goto for ratting out Reagan.
She's cagey as can be, too. I can't do anything about it because she has a brainbeam. That's a terrific way to taunt someone you raped and tortured. Bye then, go enjoy Mary, here's some money for your trouble, while raping us of our lives with home invasion. Peter Gabriel not only made hidden camera sex tapes of me and Kathy Hayford without our knowledge or consent when we lived in Montana where Gellhorn wrote me, but he filmed the brutal rape of deaf Jeannie for Yoko Ono's Warhol collection.
Sound Mental Health, those scum, support, secretly, the demand I apologize.
More and more often I come to think the Beatles involved in the murder of JFK. There's something about everything about them that says that to me, help Reagan and the OSS get rid of him and you'll be number one. It certainly is thrilling how they took the side of mass murderers and raped a deaf girl with Downs Syndrome and epilepsy. Now they want Apology to the men who murdered my father, higher elects of the V.A. because Nam Vets. Dad was a mere Leyte Gulf hero of WW2.
What gets me sickest of all is hearing them carp on the theme of Ayn Rand spirituality. Rand had a scene in The Fountainhead where the architect's Temple of the Human Spirit is mauled, crippled, torn asunder and rebuilt as a pity party home (they make it out to be) for the retarded. One such girl finds herself in an unchanged corner of the former work and takes to sitting there, appreciatively. I like that scene because I can imagine it. Jeannie was an honest girl. When told I was dangerous she laughed and said, "What a lie. Hahaha." She knew Pittsburgh. She didn't know English and she paid for it. It's not in the book, but if Roark really existed, the architect, he might well have sat down next to that little princess with Downs Syndrome who found a favored corner of his defaced, but priceless work, and been touched. Looked at her, Rand might have said, without pity, with appreciation and a smile, warm and loving. Had it been Peter Gabriel, preaching Ayn Rand, and the girl been deaf Jeannie, he would have spat on her, pissed and leered, and said, "That which does not destroy her makes her stronger."
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