Notice that this outrage in broad daylight continues to draw me into a sidelight glare as object of suspicion despite the outrageous evidence of mutilation, nerve agent poison, serial abuse including severe medical malpractice obviously intended to do grave humiliation.  I say notice this, but only in passing.   Prof. Johns says victims are either loved or hated, we know well which one means me.   Peter Gabriel was in contact with me three years as part of Robet Fripp’s Human Contact Tour, and directed himself to making a mockery with a song called, “That Voice Again” and another, “Come Talk to Me,” which sent out signals to his rioters meaning, come lynch with me, for they have a prey, wrapped in a pretzel, showered in derision, plastered by lies.   They are very ripper rapists and yet they serve in the stand as accuser, judge and jury by their own admission.   They have a slogan about murdering bystanders, that they need it for therapy like Morlocks coming out of the dungeon to eat Eloi, and yet claim the greater grudge.   Working on that you arrive not at a pretzel but an unholy attack on the United States of America by the British Foreign Service and I will explain this operation to you in some detail.

      All of the evidence shows that my name was manufactured in advance to author a war crime in my name to which I was birthed by military intelligence arrangement and then the criminals were allowed to incriminate me so that the true authors could use me as a substitute for themselves while leading a mob scene, and since that defense is obviously true and a serious allegation about the staged and phony discovery of the script they wrote, you would expect there to be minimal concern about hearing both sides rather than siding with the murderers because it is too serious to disbelieve them despite all the evidence showing what they did, but as a sidebar again notice also that their own explanation for what they did is criminally insane, which Congress has conceded to be so, meaning that they are innocent in deranged acts because the actions were criminally insane and not true authorship of a war crime.  We are also to understand that no one accuses me of really knowing or having participated, only that I cannot stop the authors, that is my crime, failure to stop them, and they are the accusers, which is very curious again, and supposedly a pretzel, rather than deranged, criminal cunning.

      Although this is clearly Trump’s doing, along with his predecessors, the gold potential of the case, which New York City heaps with their derision of amazement and impunity, is clearly the arranged by mad hatters of Hollywood capitalism doing what they claim their legal right to do, there are other sidebars to notice along the way, among them that mature adults, meaning, for example, the doctors at Tacoma clinic, do neither notice, nor care to make statement concerning, any sort of ethical violation that is obvious from sinister vivisection and atrocity in the name of garbage artists from on high, parched fascist cow pies like Peter Gabriel.   Nope, not one word of notice about deranged mutilation beginning in child and spanning an entire lifetime.  This seems worth going into, broad daylight sadism as though nothing has happened or gone wrong is a social contract acceptance that some play is at work above and beyond impeachable evil, some special education applause for which will set the whole thing right, much as it comes to light through this operation that they were involved in killing Martin Luther King to use his life for their teaching tool, a very pretty arrangement for themselves.

        Their syllogism has proven immortal that it is better you should side with the powers who released the AIDS attack than be fooled by someone who is innocent.   They called their crime a priceless forgery.  The authenticity of what took place mere worthless dust.   Clearly, it seems to me, as we work towards what is appropriate to believe, we should consider doing so by what of and through what is true.   The fact that poisoning me was sold as equity to the bereaved by those who released the virus should not be so readily overlooked.   The assassins actually have created a system of government that allows, endorses and rewards the citizens in the execution of our own President for entertainment, further, they designated me as an heir apparent to the Royalty of access and privilege for police psychiatric control tower slavery to a guild of child mutilating human traffickers, BECAUSE they reason, after all, I am the one who wanted to reproach with nations like North Korea seeking diplomatic resolution to our differences.  We’ll just tell them your sex secrets first, little queerball, Yoko Ono snarled with her power structure confederate George Bush.   The superheroes who are vivid in this horrid doublecross are little better than sundry pieces of you know what.

      Seattle Gays had no problem making this out to be Nazi Germany.  They said the exact same words that the assassin leader Greg Karl did, “Jimmy is going to entertain us.”   The bloodsucker rhetoric flew fast and furiously at Carnegie Mellon as Reagan secured his tribe pointing at me in secret, when I had no idea what was going on, “That’s the one who cudda saved our friend John Lennon.”   Tami Simon and Will Zell both had girls at their side suffering from a similar rare disease that Simon described as putting through “home deathing.”   She wrote in her notebook, “I, the dream, clinging yet to the dream, as the patient clings to the last, thin, unbearable instant of agony, in order to sharpen the savor of the pain’s surcease.”  Who, in other words, by the evidence, was the titillated blood sucker?  They demanded my death and suffering as their energy drink.   This horrid spoof on our rights and dignities is depicted as a sacred wheel of loyalty, their Taliban exists to rectify our privileges and blacks have set to the task of making sure we know their syphilis is wrought in iron.  The double meaning of “Come Out” issued to Gay society, “don’t say like Anne Frank,” carried the hidden pun, “Or we’ll burn you out!”

       I stood up for them.  Their masters were amused and snickered, if you try to help them they will only turn on you.