A collegiate debacle was whipped up by King Crimson in Pittsburgh to protect Reagan when Warhol nabbed papers they planted on James MacRyland Crary, being held as a sort of weird curiosity by vivisectionists at the University of Pittsburgh, conjuring a United Artist frenzy over the AIDS attack that Warner Brothers, nabbing their papers of warning, claimed found art, which has been a secret in savings on loan to crybaby Ma-cryland of Disne-yland Pentagon involuntary services, alias queerbait of the Little Queen (CVL-30). Katz (Sanetta) the utility complainer announced to the world England's rubbish that AIDS was an attack from insight, preparedness, necessity and sanity.

The meaning encapsulated in the names Katz and Trump are identical. The idea illustrated by the bomb scare put on by Kim, Alexie, Stone, Putin and Donald Donald announced a Katz Game in high warlock dens with nuclear totality shaping the dialogues over the X-termination ultimatum with CO2/Methane as their forcing house, the expert of which named Rodd is represented in 1972 when Billy Rodd, a friend of the English kid living near Eisen's door, and member of the faster than Jimmy Billy Club (Flynn, Beck and Rodd) who worked with Colucci, Carlucci on making sure Jimmy was watched carefully when beaten unconscious for glimmers of understanding. Rodd witnessed the blindside attack by Kasper, and these images formed the eidetic tapesty in the inner mind of the Jimmy object as he was enculturated by his school math teacher and Gail Burstyn to read The Outsiders, an inner dimension of Hollywood spiritualism clearly showing that Billy Graham went over to the Third Reich in the AIDS plot from Reagan. The King Crimson devotees attacking us even more for the victims do not realize they were tricked. They think King Crimson found the letters, and Lennon really died. You killed me, he shouts from the beyond, make them pay ye Tojo bitter ronin. All of their nonsense is deeply ingrained in your inability to read this again and realize the fingerprints bear a science of denial. Practice mental relaxation against futility. Eisenhower and Kennedy's prestige and shelf life offer some hope against the blackout that the new poison again targeting my brain intends as Sound Mental Health and UW Medicine continue as though under orders to make professional medical mistakes.

A web of interconnected indexicalities was made a net by the Axis within during the control arrangements premeditating the X-termination lesson known for the Texas Schoolbook. Look briefly at Rubin, shown in likeness by text of Gail Raven in Jack Ruby's headquarters at the CIA human trafficking union, who had midwives in hospitals appraising the merchandise from birth, and physicians at Mercy Hospital who would look for the lips in new people in town for the men who stole Lincoln conts. and kidnapped little Jimmy. Rubin's musical forces introduced Jimmy to Tumbalalika laugh and be gay, with the melancholy of Fripp and Giles playing My Bonnie while sporting a hairdo from Tive of SONY, alias Fat Man. Working with a woman named Burnham the Governor had the class sing a MisterRoger's ditty, out loud, good things not bad, happy not sad. In this traffic and airplay what Peter Gabriel has done to me is as bad as those stories of women held captive in basements by perverts and has gone on five times as long. The murderer played a race war Tess game with inhuman psychology over Sanetta. Even the suggestion of Tumeric, which is considered a possible antidote to brain plaque, is spiced with the tricorder blather of Sinfield/Warfield decrypting as two John Merricks, to die as sport for gangster multiculturalism and India's street fighters for Trump. The message in the murder of JFK was we sure had fun with your wife, which the Christian war gamers turned around by entrapment in NAACP pussyball. When Ming Na Wen's drama gang at CMU set up Alpana they also raced recklessly at Kelly School. Clearly Trump intended an object lesson, observe which case interests Mr. Biggs, the danger to black schoolchildren and a targeted white or the licky chops dibs over the Asian plate.

The world that Trump built conceives of Section 8 as the liberal dungeon, falling into place as Jack-in-the-Box because planned. For the Black Panthers the cheering charge at CMU was loud, "Let's Have A Barbecue!" Despite their bloodbath Seattle Left barely deserves mention as Trump turbans in drag.