June 30, 2018
Vaclav Havel came to mind with the murders at the Capital Gazette in Maryland. Havel was briefly exciting back in 1990. He swept himself into obscurity and the dustbin of history and today there is no hope that even his best work will ever really have any lasting value. The shooting brought vivid relief to the terrible truth about Vaclav Havel. The Capital Gazette murders will always stand as a landmark in the rise of Donald Trump. There is something so terribly incongruous in seeing Trump and Havel’s names side by side, due to popular misunderstanding of the central role Havel played in Trump’s strategy and rise to power and prominence. Those who defend Havel will say that I seek to give meaning to a deranged and criminal act. In reality, the meaning is there. The Capital Gazette’s guilt in denying that meaning is part of that meaning.
Loyalty Oaths to the United States of America have long since abandoned the notion that it proclaims a loyalty to the First Amendment and Freedom of the Press. All of the people killed were patriots and none of them deserved to die, but they were hardly stalwarts in the protection of our rights and dignities you would hope to find in an old, distinguished newspaper. Far from it, and much to the contrary not one of them could care less that the child, the grandson, of a newspaper editor in St. Louis was kidnapped, tortured and subject to serial mutilation that has left the victim prematurely and irreversibly ill in decline, hope never emerged, help never came, and this was the doing of Vaclav Havel.
If you are saying, oh that Ramos nut was Jimmy Creary’s hero, acting out his sick fantasy of revenge, I think you should fall to the ground and beg forgiveness of whatever God or devil you worship, because when Ramos came for them, he came for me in spirit, even though I wanted them fired for desertion. Making the newspaper office a dangerous environment is a crime. The First Amendment comes before the Second Amendment and on the day the gun nuts end that fact is the day America is abolished. All of the victims are already convicted of standing for that day. Unlike what I have been told, that I brought torture and hatred on myself to learn from the experience, a sentiment voiced by the wife of a writer for the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, I wanted to help them. The workload they have heaped on me unpaid is criminally insane.
It takes work to tell the truth in a puzzle perplex. Not many people are willing to work unpaid. The deranged newspaper community that got their comeuppance have used Hollywood to create a prison of slanders around me so that my volunteer efforts come across as desperate special pleading in a way that illustrates that the so-called sociological imagination can do nothing but harm in ethical police science. When innocent men are convicted it is the sociological imagination that provides the motive behind things they are said to have done which they never did. Robert Penn Warren’s book about the life and death of Huey Long was classified fiction for very good reason, it was bunk, a trophy of disingenuous behavior by the branch of police fiction trash. It provided the sociological imagination for Hollywood and in many surreal ways the murder of JFK, but if it was really about, “All the King’s Men,” who were all the king’s men? How did Huey Long get transformed from the man who said that all men are kings without crowns to an image of Humpty Dumpty? By sociological imaginations and propensity to believe guffaws present in newsrooms like that found on the floor of the Capital Gazette we have all been betrayed. The dead were victims of something they produced and stage-directed, they were victims of the sociological imagination at work in their office.
It’s not that I expect anyone to want to know the truth which is why this article is in the dustbin and so titled, there it will remain, as will Vaclav Havel. I don’t like being in his company but the American newspaper industry, in so much as it exists at all, is in a tragic state of coma. Construing this crime as shock therapy will never work, it will only backfire, it will allow them to cheer the murder of their critics, as they have done so often before. In this way, this article is about the shadowbox system of secret sympathies going on in the AIDS war. The newspaper establishment have cheered and incited torture and murder of an ink devil, someone who fights for the truth, and seeks to demand that newspapers do their duty. Vaclav Havel said no.
There is no question what I am really saying, and how it gets perverted in the sociological imagination. The press were cheering Ramos and I was trying to stop him. They were getting him to kill people and I was trying to intervene. That is the proper orientation of the sociological imagination in the affair. If you think I am subtly comparing Ramos to Trump it is because I am. I am also being a vulgarian against University of Washington spit-ups calling themselves the Department of Sociology. UW Sociology is unable to index a single issue of centrality to their existence because of their maladaptive stake in covering for Havel. They, too, are the dust in the dustbin of Obama’s bin. Failing to admit any of the truth isn’t mindless, it is promotion of the AIDS attack, plain and simple, which brings us to issues of very great intensity when it comes to how and where to hold the press negligent and responsible, in fact, in some places, they operated in malice as authors. Havel didn’t just fail to prevent the rise of Trump, the election was his own triumph.
The crime in Maryland was a signal crime in the United States understood symbolically. It forecloses forever on the travesty of Havel’s pathetic surrender in the name of moralism. One can scarcely believe the travesty he and his minions authored for Reagan and where it led, much less the callow, bloodcurdling murders committed by UW grassroots enforcing his subordination of reality to their sociological agenda. The hollow alibi offered for sacrificial murder is intense. The dignity of the United States in my short lifetime has been ripper raped in cold blood and broad daylight by all the king’s men and no one in the press lifted a finger, not once. It is as though they have all agreed to gurgle over the transformation of American history to a gory slasher murder in which they laugh and cheer between gawks. They will change our National Anthem to Tubular Bells.
The newspapers of Seattle are allowing UW sociology to murder me under the weight of inventions created in Pittsburgh by Martin Sheen and Capitol Hill by Aaron Dixon. I have tried to make it hard for them to get away with it. I loved the little Crary who was set upon and mauled. I hate King Crimson for betraying Jim. The fact that the UW Medical Community has openly and without remorse encouraged, abetted and stage directed intimate and horrifying poison crimes to gratify the sociological imagination of black racist pigs who want to take a white souvenir to hell is shocking. The Capital Gazette existed as a lampoon of their responsibilities. The killer was a gamer. He ended the match of wits hiding under the desk like everyone else. To support Vaclav Havel the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette shamefully, I have no doubt at all, and with their very survival depending on it, spread at once the leer that Ramos was someone just like Jimmy Creary, when, in reality, he was just like them: Willards, the ratman of the notebooks who sicked little biters on those he hated.
The newsroom at the Capital Gazette knew for years that this has been being done. They stood by like the tenement residents who stood on their balconies hanging their clothes on the line throughout the howls of Kitty Genovese as she was murdered for an hour, telling police, why Vaclav Havel told us to. Justifying their murders is as unpardonable as justifying the carpet bombing of residential Dresden during World War Two. America has bystander laws and no mistake. Whether they belong in newspaper offices is simply a grounds for debate.
Typical of this situation is the cover the Post-Gazette gave to Ian Wattenmaker, whose brutal gang forcefed me a nerve agent while Carnegie Mellon sociologists held me in bondage as a set up for Andrea Swimmer. Ian Wattenmaker used the image on the cover of King Crimson as part of his vivisection dissection of me, and as a member of the Guttersnipes, a gang who wrote about this opening, which the newspaper all read, he had a death by sniper prophecy about me that he shared when he showed me pictures of Yad Vashem. Hostage to kidnapping, tortured by poison, the accuser operating from sociological imagination defends their turf as the truth, while in reality they are the authors of the holocaustal crime, seeking approval to gratify by publication all of their smears, for the king’s men. Ramos was like their advertising firm. It is very dangerous to tell the hip hop mob scene of the sociological imagination that they have grounds. It can come back to haunt you.
Although not exactly the Neoliberal bogeymonster that the staff at the Capital Gazette are, how it happened and where it has led was meant to single me out as an establishment’s burnt offering in political crucifixion, but a lot more is at work in company poison crime as a disciplinary measure executed with impunity and absolute lethality. The origins culturally couldn’t be more sophisticated and complex. By a hemorrhage of tactical and covert support UW gave their blessing to an unforgivable Hitlerism because they could get away with it. They created the unnameable other: Neoliberal as a bogeymonster to abuse like getting a dog to gnaw cowhooves getting out its aggressions. For blame itself they deafened a white suck.
America has an enculturated shadowplay now and it comes into motion with any act of terrorism to such an insane degree that we have a feud going on the stage of our unwritten history, a feudal stageplay that Havel and his minions mongered for a diversion. It has never mattered to anyone anywhere that I showed these exchanges to be Yojimbo, a side show by the AIDS attackers to masquerade in the form of settle-ances between prior contracts among union lobbies. The Neoliberal bogeymonster is the place to begin in understanding the shadowbox at work in the collective mind of our public ogres. No one can say those stupid pigs are a nauseating lampoon of newspaper duties but no one can deny the fixation on contempt for what our butchy haired fuhrer calls fake news and the depravity of liberalism. It is the defeat of liberals that newspapers used to prop up their legitimacy, hoping the crocodile would eat them last, and it did, they held out for a long, long time.
Andrea Swimmer, secret tape fantast of Carnegie Mellon, was the perfect ruse for Trump and Havel because of the macabre ideological twist put on any attempt to describe such crude individual. Her gang inputted the soundtracks to extrude. The ideological inversion is perfect for the king’s men working a twist of perception. One reason they got away with this is because she helped the Pittsburgh NAACP work around the evidence that greedy black men were in on the hit against Martin Luther King, a fact found in their script. King had challenged the parochial status quo as a married gentleman of the playboy era. What better way to make amends than to support the double role of a racially generous lady agent from kiddie porn? Meanwhile Jimmy Creary was told to say the word pleasure or die, while the newspapers put up a Jewish boy masquerading as Abdul the Terrorist sneering, “No one is innocent,” on KDKA radio. Clever Havel went right along with the plan to purposefully sicken the masses as an act of sociological imagination conniving the infected black man into a great warrior as special agent of voodoo equity on the make for white meat.
Obviously the world machine created a name for this, a special circuit considered so sacred they were perfect for holy war: Paul McCartney, how sad. They even announced his voice would live on in hope beyond our globe by putting his stupid slobbering on a NASA record into the void. NASA is hardly irrelevant to the play, the shadowbox.
When one sees a soccer ball from the Challenger one remembers the words of Sean Lennon, already on the tip of his tongue Dec. 9, 1980, that his father was now the Holy Ghost and would resolve all karma in the Two Virgins soccer court of all the crimson king’s men. The alibi structure was already in place, too, in wait like the call that came from Dia on Dec. 8, 1980, a play to make them proud of doing it, Jimmy Creary would be a mirror of the crime. The alibi structure was in place super-architecturally, a placebo of Rome, an Ark of Kolorz, and Obama would lead the play from walkie talkies on the sidelines of UW carping at the Neoliberal bogeymonsters, with agents from the CIA giving the offer of Marxism to the uninfected slaves. No one bothered to compare the sociological imagination of Havel with the truth of how many lives could have been saved by timely warning.
This situation has caused me to suspect Muhammed Ali having a role in the murder of JFK and it isn’t just the way that his New York’s hissing about liberalism brought Martha Gellhorn in the end around to the side of General Franco. It is the way that freedom of expression was used for neurological violence as a Hollywood disproof of our nation’s very fabric of dignity. This isn’t a society of responsible journalists. They aren’t going to bark up the right tree. Crime against speech has a way of uniting us in sighs against our right to explode. Tantrums erupt on the baseball field between umpire and manager, in domestic arguments between brats, on sit-coms and in films enough that we take for granted that temper flares and violence are worlds apart, yet it is exactly on that footnote from the dungeons of hell in the dark coven of Pitt that the criminals from Warhol Museum brokered blackout with Havel. The letter to Leslie Katz they manufactured for their excuse was nothing but a samizdat over heavy petting. What right did they have to use it for war protecting the New Exterminators?
It’s hardly like I don’t know who they are. I worked for Polly Saltonstall at the Bar Harbor Times in 1988. Harvard class of 1984 enjoyed mad prophets of the sale of the crime. Thos. Gordon described in the most vivid terms that the most horrible fate was being forced to watch your lover in the arms of your enemy and this is exactly how Trump and Havel unfolded the crime in the drama stage of Lennon’s double-oh seven fantasy for the soccer court of all the crimson king’s men, Two Virgins Pussyball, in which Pentagon Disney has been trying to prove a double against the golem knocked out in bondage to a pun on his attacker’s name James K, the friendly ghost of Hitler they announced by gassing a victim in King’s Estate to be the spirit of Lennon, taking Jimmy Creary hostage to the turnaround plot under Axis authority at UW sociology. The neuroplasm was repeatedly tested by the military under Obama as the Pavlovian hoodwinker Midori Goto pranced over its pale white suck loneliness in massage therapy auto-eros, cleverly uploaded by the killers in their guild. The cosmic facial, a laceration under the face was tested for plastic utility in personality change caused by the invisible semi-coma and where they didn’t get what they wanted they scribbled with the King’s ransom pen from Hollywood all the same.
After staging a series of punishment elopements by potential spouses to the closest society of the golem, Midori set forth from Duquesne with Rosa of Karma and rippered the neuroplasm into seizures while running away with the bad boy K. for cinema of the Neva domain and the tunes of Andrea Swimmer at UW on high, years of cruelty in homelessness was just the beginning, as the NAACP licky chops experimented with poisons. The research was all into: did the crime work? and the answer came, Yippee!
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