Allowing that no more honorable Inspector of civil service and police duty has come along to apprehend the organized crime of the AIDS attack I beg your forbearance in attempting to crack the case with a study of forensic planning.  Whether you fear this is an obligatory service or acknowledge my effort, kindly give the matter its due consideration and share it with those who you feel comfortable drawing upon to consult in such a horrendous and gloomy topic.

     The key to the AIDS attack is how conveniently and simple the commission of intelligence behaved in public no less in terms of authorization and arrangement throughout the execution of the crime drama, conspicuously originating among those empowered to tax our incomes.   It was skillful, precise and scientific, with the care of barrister Edgar Snyder working out a daily routine venture in Pennsylvania moral law, coded to a pitch of loathsomeness, representing what they take for very high minded considerations.

     This very simplicity is what allows the action to be overlooked.  There is no, “so what?” to entrapment: it is against the law, yet they so what it all the same and when this gets let slide, police prerogative, frat hooliganism and so on, the entire war crime becomes a piece of cake.  Judges represent their shrug of duty asking who would fall for such a trap, failing (or preferring not) to see that proving the trap meant proving the crime.

      It isn’t that no one suspected but the idea that it would be done this openly gave rise to a feeling that it all just happened.   They ran a military vanguard where sex is dishonor and alternated sexual opportunity with terrible reprisals, making it all very simple.  It also allowed them to move swiftly from start to finish and clean up the entire victory board with a pun mission based on puritanical reprisal for the death of Lennon, appointing the trophy of the kill, Midori Goto, as the trump in the deck heralding the entire tumbler apparatus as an exercise in Imperial valedictory.

      Watch as I explain how convenient it all was.   The Salk Labor community who kidnapped and gassed me as a child for the Neva pornography Corporation from Japan, proven by the script, who followed my father Ryland a bunkmate of Bush in the Navy (naval record suggest that father crossed him during the war at sea, but he may have known what was going on, I really cannot be sure) again Salk Labor set me up with a woman from India named Alpana through the office of Lee Gutkind at Pitt.   This was revealed the following morning to be a woman whose roommate as she called the other person living there turned out to be by her explanation a man she married to ease their way to study in the United States where he was in a Nuclear studies program. Accomplices in the Pittsburgh NAACP announced that this was a Louie Louie race line and called Dibs on Midori Goto, the symbol for Neva identified by the script, in agency for the Green Party, announcing that the NAACP partnership with the KKK in the AIDS war game on Mt. Desert Island, where I was seduced by a woman named Lisa with needle tracks and a death tattoo on her inner thigh, then forcibly tested, was therefore racially equitous:  a Two Virgins Pussyball Ark of Colors.

     From the darkness of Warhol Museum came an injection threat and cooperation ultimatum. Peter Gabriel, leering from a sensory deprivation tank in England, claimed that he could use ESP to determine the fault lines in my psyche he left out were being caused by a nerve agent they forcefed me in hostage as a traumatized child. This allowed them to escalate into a Schizophrenia Manifesto through acid rock gaslighting measures.

       Let me explain next that they are using a doctrine of justified poison and enveloping it in the Kennedy curse, moving the crosshairs of which around to target me and then those close to me in a style of government we are familiar with from the rise of Nazi Germany.   Further, by using a slipknot technique, claiming they found this plan as a script of letters they adopted for art sake in Warhol society, they have a sleight of hand from Hollywood which allows the true criminals to claim they are working the will of victims under the mask of Lennon.   To demonstrate that this is a premeditated method, return again to how shrewd their entrapment was, yet just how brazen the symbolism.

     School administration itself came onto me with a hireling named Rosa, to target a brutal head injury they had impacted with a secret spectro chemical nerve agent, manipulating appearances to seem as though I was trying to control her after we became engaged. Her virginity was announcement of contempt. This allowed paranormal brutality depicting me as demonically possessed, meanwhile Shawn Brooks, who locked me out of a church when the gang set on me in a crying, terrified childhood, worked with Rosa taking over my father’s office of education at Pitt. Interestingly, my father was a Humanist, that Franklin Graham called, “the greatest enemy of America since communism.”  In fact, on the cover of the first edition of Humanist Magazine in Jan. 1964 President Kennedy appears with a line bisecting him, supposedly an editorial publication error.

        My name is James MacRyland Crary, I am a former Governor’s School poet in Phi Theta Kappa, senior citizen and deaf, in Tacoma Community College, former medical library clerk in 1984 at Pitt and general library clerk at Community College of Allegheny County.  I investigated this web as an amateur journalist. The character assassins making this look like a prank, despite engaging in spice up of the message operation like raping my deaf advocate and slasher killing a bystander outside the Seattle Clubhouse where I was in trauma care, have claimed they were mocking me for harboring symptoms of their own obsession, that of virginity.  The hoodwinkers used a letter to a girl who left me unrequited, in other words still a virgin, after a year of dating to claim they were teaching me a klan lesson. The script correlated this to their claim that Lennon's double fantasy disappearance was not Pentagon Disney, a forcing house of the slipknot, yet their attorneys called me to announce his death and had me in D.C. when Reagan, Lennon's partner in this war game, claims he was shot, he waved to me the night before.

       Commissionership is particularly obvious regarding the role playing double identity of Andrea Swimmer of Jaime Carbonell’s secret taping division of language studies at Carnegie Mellon, a character role of fallen woman elevated to abused accuser with no case against me empowering them anyway.   Meanwhile one of their pseudo-journalists, Adam Eisenstat, referred to me in print as the “refuse of an era,” while, himself American Israeli, he posed as "Abdul the Terrorist" on KDKA radio. Throughout they used entrapment to dramatize their slanders and finished the wheel by revealing letters sent to me in a traumatized childhood, aha, they lisped, cudda saved John Lennon.   By refusing the Right to Know Laws concerning a bio-terror attack they made a lampoon of the right to know this way and then mobilized protective instinct to panic the Gays like horses to the burning barn, forging protective instinct into a suicide weapon and fraternal ultimatum, posing as victim leaders, but having scripted the entire mania, pointing out me through the lens of the Kennedy curse, offering Seattle Queers a bloody spectacle in derision to quench their hate in the name of Love.