Gary Locke Library

July 29, 2011

In the Wing Luke Museum of Chinatown/International District, Seattle, a new plantation which was once an older museum across the town designed a bit like the London War Museum, is the Gary Locke International Studies Library run by a courteous and likeable woman named Janet Aviado. To this museum I donated ten thousand dollars worth of state of the art, some rare, unused or new, academic textbooks that took considerable skill to secure. Despite living below the poverty line, I am also single and a resigned library clerk, so this was easier for me than it might have been for others. My father and sister, both who can hear, I am deaf, attained the level of Ph.D. in college. Nobody thanked me. In fact, the situation has been brought about that Gary Locke himself attacked me very vigorously and bitterly unprovoked resulting in devastating moral, psychological and physical health consequences. Do you see the issue in this? It is being kept secret by complexity of argumentation.

I am now officially in bad health and facing tests, procedures with a morbidity risk and see this as a necessary time to address the issue of what became of my family and next of kin, survivors, in light of the thankless labor I have long performed and the sad business of poison crime which has necessitated my putting off tests temporarily to travel and say goodbye to family, and what this requires I live with, prolong in terms of suffering and possibly tragically alter the prospect of timely intervention. In light of this farewell, I have taken a great liberty that will shock you. I have decided to render lucid argumentation that will transcend rational barriers to evaluation and attack Mr. Locke very bitterly through the medium of paranoid schizophrenia in order to expose his cruel hand in tragic, state-sponsored violence of civil war nature.

There are no doubt closet readers of mine for a long time who realize and even want this strange case of James MacRyland Crary to be among the saddest stories ever told, in terms of suffering, humiliation and lost potential, with long-term impact on our society and, indeed, World Public Relations, since Midori Goto is a United Nations Peace Ambassador and the proximate harbinger of many distresses.

My purpose isn’t to invert the direction of your thoughts on this subject. I know as well as you do that the difference between the civilized and the barbaric is that the civilized disadvantage themselves knowingly by never taking action on the basis of suspicion alone. I consider myself a civilized person and this is the reason I was selectioned to be made a state neurological science monkey guinea pig in an ongoing process of unspeakable sadism, courtesy Mr. Locke. Unfortunately, there are chambers of meaning hidden away in the mind of barbarians and their potentials that cannot be illuminated without using a flashlight, well on your belly, sinking to their level. For this reason, I admit in advance, some of this testimony may pertain to things that are dumb luck, illusion, or the dreary tedium of dead end leads. However, you will detect with either forbearance or scorn that I hold forth in belief about some of them, and do not suspend all disbelief, lending my presentation the odor of barbarianism that unfortunately has many adherents and is grounds for alarm about public safety. I wholeheartedly confess that malpractitioners of the military arts have abused my presentations in the past for venomous bombing crimes. This situation is not unprecedented. It happened to Antonio Negri in Italy. What I do know however is that the objective of Locke’s predecessors, particularly Bush, initiating these provocations is to give an atmosphere of danger in order to silence me, and I have worked very hard showing the hand of the true authors so the public can put a stop to it at once. The question in this essay about such programmatic paranoidization pertains to whether Gary Locke himself is responsible for monster abuses past, as he so obviously has been for the more recent, possibly lethal, attacks ruining my health and prospects deliberately forever.

I trust you understand the issue.

Let me begin by saying there is no doubt whatsoever of Locke’s loyalty to Obama and that he wants me vanquished. Locke would without a doubt be willing to note my importance because of my father Ryland, a Peace Corps leader (deceased) and acknowledge the seriousness of my claims. Poisoning me a second time in the heart, causing a devastating arrhythmia in an environment where no one cares was a good idea in the sense that no way under any circumstances would I crawl to his cult of Labor under the jurisdiction of Yoko Ono in New York City if he had not done this dirty.  I do very badly want Ultrahigh shut off. I feel good about never having done what they so malifically petition, despite being tortured horribly, indescribably, in the style of Eastern Europe, because the idea of giving my family name in endorsement to the atrocity of the AIDS Onslaught, which is what Locke is demanding, is an irreconciliable difference. Obama and Locke have tried to implicate me into a fait accompli.  Attending this cruel farce is not only Obama’s place in human history, what he has done to the dignity of black people worldwide, and African Americans, but the question of whether Gary Locke was inside the National Security system that authored the abomination. In other words, is Gary Locke a criminal usurper climbing into place through the monster Reagan’s assassination of JFK, an atrocity Gary Locke so fears my Naval Intelligence about that he has silenced me with death, in the form of a lethal summons?

All of this illustrates both a rather huge principle and the despicable danger of such principles in the hands of monstrosities like Vaclav Havel who raided the University of Pittsburgh on a criminal grab to put me in a dungeon of his inelegant framework for torture against the idea of a footnote called conscience. Due to his desperate obsession to see this crime fulfilled, I am faced with a draconian act and demand about unfinished monkey business, an apology to Yoko Ono that Vaclav Havel deems a supreme gesture in a grandscale play, terribly entertaining to his insufferableness.

When my house was broken into and my heart broken further and literally among the gestures left by the intruder was that the six(6) malfunctions on my Washington State TTY device now. Six was the time that Pitt (the University of Pittsburgh) invited me to the Law School on Oct. 17, 1993 to give testimony about torture and murder, answered  by vicious arrest and horrid, libelous allegations as well as the rape of my best friend by AFL-CIO and British Labor decree. This was one sad outcome of reporting torture to Peter Gabriel, espionage vampire, when he claimed to be from Amnesty International. It is a very significant fact that my father Ryland was a Chair of Education at that school, because a major theme of this letter is the way that I was taken from my family, a family with whom I have never, from day one of my life, ever been allowed anything like what you would call normal growth and developmental relations. Being the child of a humanist was just too big to the Shakespearean melodrama the Reagans had in mind for the AIDS Onslaught.  Father never even knew what hit him.

I happen to know that the heartbreaking incident had sponsorship in part from Operation Rescue and was being given the overtone of a resolution gesture, because a couple came onto me in a bakery I used to haunt to tell me of their whereabouts in terms associated with the heartbeat slogans of anti-abortion organizations their time of day. It should be noted by friend and foe alike that I was a very sensitive child and may well have taken an anti-abortion stand if the Operation: Rescue (of Hitler)  murderers had not licensed themselves to intervene in my development while pursuing their savage acts of disruption and molest, in their view of me as a utility. They were not, in other words, about to take the chance that I would develop normally and come of age in a way that presented humanism as a friend to the attitude that a child in a womb is a living entity worthy of the song Let it Be. It is sacrilegious, I feel, to accord the AIDS Combine their righteous indignation. Indeed, Hillary Clinton made abortion into the issue and Obama made black suffering from AIDS into the issue in order to void the real issue, timely public warning,  by refraction, a clever act, meant to harvest the presumption of voter stupidity. I say this benevolently towards voters, because they were never warned and have never had any of this truthfully explained. Indeed, the entire United Nations had not one human being willing to speak truth to the powerless, much less the powerful. Not one.  Instead they authored immeasurable distraction, heaped with chicanery, unable to suffer the reality and responsibility.

As a person remorselessly brain-damaged by torture I have insisted on abdication of political authority, but investigated and presented hard won evidence that Locke’s gang very nearly entirely destroyed.

Another precept for the criminal license that was taken by Locke has to do with what they consider my Satan Sessions, looking for images of attractiveness, reminders of the eros I was so entirely ensnared in, for Midori, admittedly under control by irreconciliable differences, a medium purposefully poisoned, as research shows, by those who released the virus.  Sometimes it’s not pretty, but it’s not vivisection, which is what they have engaged in towards me.  Indeed, one of Obama and Locke’s primary objectives has been to impart an idea about “the content of the character” of the observer through vicious and destructive imagery imparted through the sources of adult cinema.  They broadcast, you see.  It’s your fault what you see.  Better remain ignorant and never seek reform, they claim now.  When one looks at my own portfolio, it shows the vast improvement my own participation would confer if I were an erotic film-maker, something I have not sought to be, wanting primarily to investigate and prosecute those who poisoned the Sexual Revolution which they had no right to do whether you oppose that revolution or not. As a lover, you do not hear from my girlfriends past that my behavior resembled the actions in the web. I was the type to close my eyes, kiss softly and yield.

One of the ways to understand the magnitude of Locke’s depravity towards his victim is the fact that even writing on my feet doing volunteer labors without pay and a heart condition, all day, I was barely able to keep up with the issue enough to condense the substance of the subject into what might appear to some people a rather lengthy reading.  If it was to be done simply, I would only have to say:  No, I was tortured, I had nothing to do with your mental problem and I want nothing to do with you, but a creature like Locke gets a taste of the succulence in ritual abuse and can no longer control his hunger for depradation.  It’s not, in other words, a simple thing to answer a monster who abuses his power and refuses to take no for an answer because he has ten thousand secretaries working overtime justifying himself, all of them desperate, desperate people.

There are a few shortcuts to the ugly truth.  Locke is a coward and chauvanist advocating for victim-on-victim chicken fights, the cannibalism of wound compare and a bunch of queers who held Brian Eno to be their God, known and approved, at a time when I was little more than an unknown assassin’s audaciously invented  identity of battered incoherence being hotwired by assassins who held me in neurotrauma.  By commissioning a terroristic identity crime predicated in the obscene idea that I had something to do with the death of John Lennon, Locke’s faction equated John Lennon and James MacRyland Crary as forces of absolute evil, with the attending parochial Roman Catholic inversions offered up by the Zappa Family who held forth for a strident resistance based on sarcasm about satanism, exactly what those in the AIDS Combine wanted.  Nobody warned anybody.  Decades later I could stop someone outside my window, tell them, and it would be the first they’d heard of it, yet these rapists of the mind claim to be speaking for everyone.

It is also extremely and bitterly invasive, effete and violent, what Gary Locke is doing.  The facts surrounding their brazen activities  is the easy part.  There is a more difficult task in the extremism of the Geffen Corporation than who put together the AIDS Onslaught with Ronald Reagan and SONY, to name a few of their stalwarts that would be understanding the language they use as camoflague and intimidation, its secrets, like the neurosonar of Ultrahigh, capable of sending galling, moronic, mesmerizing fluxus message recurrence directly through the psyche as though listening to a brainwave Walkman, as well as  macabre advances in hypnosis, notably trigger audiation hypnosis, developed by the psychiatric malpractitioners of Pentago/n-Disney; which isn’t to say this is all they are up to, nor that they do not have benefit of advances, all of this was started in the Science Fiction Era of the Red Scare, long, long before I was born.  Indeed, the old joke about Paul McCartney having been in a band before he joined Wings probably is suggestive of a much more hush-hush and potentially productive line of inquiry:  Who was he with and what was he a member of  before he joined the Quarrymen who then became the Beatles?  More and more what Locke and McCartney are doing appears to be an experiment in the murder of a sacrificial celebrity or three who they felt cheated them as a medium for social regress in the arts of Our Commonwealth.  This bipolarously hems in the hee haw about Reagan being one of them.

It was a long time ago, I was twelve or thirteen years old when Ronnie Z. and Gary Gary Pitman cornered me outside gradeschool dubbed me, “O’Quarry” and gassed me.  Ronnie Z. had a big tube, like the oil tube Elizabeth Taylor carries on the truck in her film about the oil boom in Texas.  They were in a gang with James Kasperowski, Kasper, whose father’s network in the Pittsburgh Police set up through the U.S. Military their own special SKOOL for sexual bondage that they brutally recruited me to, and have ever since circled my family demanding tribute to, now in the name of John Lennon, while claiming with his chum Aaron Dixon the most horribly libelous thing the sick mind of the Black Master Race can summon, that I am to blame for AIDS.  I mean sick.  Ronnie and Kasper, or at least Kasper, was a neighbor of Elizabeth Trautwein.  Note:  Ronnie and Caspar, like Reagan and Weinberger, his Defense Secretary and Elizabeth T., as in Taylor and Trautwein.  We’ve heard of Kilgore Traut.

After I was tortured I dared to punch Jeff Weiner, friend of Howie Berger and this is the essence of the thrill kill the military Gestapo authored with the help of Robert Fripp in King Crimson, a thrill kill predicated on a weird idea that I inherently had no right to self-defense against a man who threatened to cut off my hair with scissors.  Kasper tortured me and I became so deranged I punched Weiner/Berger.  KasperWeinerBerger, Caspar Weinberger, again Reagan’s war director’s name.  A karmatic circle.  You were tortured, you tried to defend yourself, that means they get to torture you again.  After the Black Master Race used me hideously by contracting call girls on me, they circled deaf Jeannie, she was raped, possibly by a white man, that much isn’t clear, at Obama’s instigation.  The idea is encrypted twofold in Gary Gary Locke’s name.  First, Thos. Gordon of Obama’s Alma Mater told me, “When Loki was imprisoned in a tree all he had to do was make someone cry for him.  No one ever would.”  Locke is playing the same game symbolized in the letters of his name.  Five letters, one for each abortion they secured on my traumatized, battered, sexually violated self, the last one symbolizing dead man, found over funeral homes, and like the poem Rape of the Lock.  Five abortions, honorary rape.  In fact Leslie Katz, the Jewess berzerker who incited this, was still a virgin when she left me unrequited, so like a bird these adagenous poems Letter to a Coy Mistress and Rape of the Lock. 

Obama and Locke raped deaf Jeannie, my closest friend, and demanded that the woman I love provide the British Military, using the enforcement of the US Secret Service, sexual favor gratification that Ringo Starr wowwed everyone dubbing “Love Services”.  Midori Goto, a hideous punk who suckered me into this, laughed in my face when my dreams were smashed in this Operation Little Girl, a fascist answer to the “Little Boy” bomb to which I owed my life when it saved my father during WW2 and the war in the Pacific.

Midori Goto’s concept was sold as commiseration with the HIV positive queers through a warp of collateral damage, sympathy abuses, shared torture.  They used thinktank HIV positive queers like Sean Strub who were in the AIDS Combine all along taking the virus in what they told me was noblese oblige, to sell the idea that I was allowed to be used and tortured this way.  The Black Community, led by Aaron Dixon and Bobby Seale enjoyed this psychopathy as Reagan knew they would.  They put out knives and scissors and have their agents give me the finger to suggest that I am the one dangerous to them, not to be challenged, since they say I cudda saved John Lennon.

Tony Cervi who administered the nerve agent that mauled me in my facial and brain, leaving me deaf and forever impaired, enjoyed the film Abominable Dr. Phibes which has a race that the murderer wins at the end.  Likewise Reagan used the symbolik name OZWALLED for the leader of the British Fascist Party, a point the British government never filed before history about Oswald, as Cervi and the assassins issued the notoriously cowardly (and inherently English) gradeschool challenge:  What would possibly be more fun than if little Jimmy had put up a squall!?  Oz was walled, Dr. Phibes had everything clocked.  They watched as it incubated, sure they could stop it, wanting more than anything else the appearance that I could have understood.  Nevermind that I was three years old when JFK was killed and that I was one of the first people to show evidence that Hitler was safely evacuated after the war, having worked very hard on no pay, not to vindicate myself, but to warn.

The obscurantism of King Crimson and the drug use of John Lennon had everything and its mother to do with the fact that Jimmy, savagely, savagely beaten and neurotoxined, had reading comprehension problems in traumatic mental illness about letters written both under him, by a younger girl, and over his head when he was terrified and thirteen years old.  They were insane, creepy and like comic book art.  A dumbzine my sister Laura used to call such scribbles.  I never hid them.  I never thought they were anything but obsessive love letters on Valentines stationary.  Not the only such letters I ever received growing up.

Reagan knew his Aaron Dixons.  Reagan had heard stories galore about the Soviet Union using destitute people, badly impaired victims of torture, for slave labors.  He just wanted to prove that the beknighted race were the same.  That’s why the Mellons gassed me in Kings Estate of Highland Park, so the King Family would stake a claim and get on the bus with the Velvet Revolution in the rape of deaf Jeannie.  Sickening.  Who, now, knowing the sad truth, would ever consider for a minute taking a lusty glance at a Black woman, or courting her?  I’m not in any way suggesting that they shouldn’t be given affirmative action or equality on the job, but an adult so-called black woman from India seduced me and I am to blame?  I am?  So they raped my loved one, threatened to kill my family’s children, denied me access to my family, tortured me horribly, commissioned identity crime and threw in that I was implicated in a crime they commissioned because they signed my name.  Well, that’s what it means to be The Walrus, but if I were out there looking around for women I’d studiously ignor the Black ones. 

And they want equal treatment from slaves.  Literally.  The slaves that get tortured and forced into slave labors won’t do it for them without a beating.  Amazing.  Volunteer labor has a slight hint of chivalry, gently rebuffed chivalry, no one has the right to expect anything from it, particularly not an illicit gratuity, but to demand slave labors from a torture victim when you are the one who tortured them?  Great balls of fire!

Victor Frankl’s idea of a skool was to educate victims about life as they died, to teach the higher mysteries.  That is why it was so easy to find evidence that AIDS is manmade in the Gurdjieff Cult of Robert Fripp who I pursued as a resigned Medical Library Clerk to Mt. Desert Island during evil hour.  Not that the cannibalist kabbalists of wound compare who make up the Gary Locke Taliban, who got me to give up art in front of witnesses without their saying openly that they’d kill my family if I didn’t, are in it for knowledge.  They are estate mongerers specially selectioned.  In the cult of Ayn Rand I’m supposed to say, I don’t want no reward, I don’t want no money, I just wanna see my baby Midori one more time and bless her stupid sly dog little joke or ize Peter Keating, the selfless and pitiful man from the selfish fiction of Ayn Rand, the glorious Koran of the Hancor Objectivist institute Korn scene.

Ultimately the issue of failure to warn (in favor of the installation of Obama) is up against Diamonda Galas, one of the arch-hedgehogs in the transformation of American society to a feudal chessboard.  From her ogry another prime value of censorship conscripts.  It works in Gary Locke’s favor.  That is how depraved their unprovoked attacks on a handicapped man are and what this spells concerning their operating pretense.  The standard German issue is certainly their edifice.  Much of this case is about National loyalty; it is about Nancy Reagan and Ming Na Wen.  Gary Locke has been asking for it like a motherfucka and running away to China won’t clear his name.  Like Outhouse Harkin of Iowa, Gary Locke’s carping about adult cinema (AV) gives him a serious credibility problem but Obama has lined up the shark of cutthroat bullworkers as enforcer, and Dia Galas didn’t ever trouble to mask her role in the knifing of Shannon Harps in Seattle sacrificially and 911.  This is more of Bush’s highly tactical alliance between junkies and Jesus, the cross and the hypodermic.  That’s why the pigs call it vice, because it grips from both sides and squeezes.

Midori Goto’s game in keeping us apart was to lay down Locke’s reasons, and poutingly hiss, “So there!”  Straightforth she incite Black Veterans, her allies, by withholding her coveted symbolic womb from their Hezbollic Party Of God, while pursuing my annihilation.  She could have just said no to me.  Say, “Yes” was dirtier.  The fight I’m in cannot be won on appearances.  I’m much too sick.  The cause however is being sold as self-inflicted.  By tolerating this, the Queers were manuveured by their own guile and adoration of celebrity into also leaving no one to blame but themselves, and believe me, they started it, because I never blamed them.  I was in it to get them warning and evidence and proof and help and justice.  Blaming me is their last wall of denial before admitting they conned themselves.  Cowardice is cruel, it is also deadly and we have English to blaspheme for this Hades.

One of Locke’s more recent attacks was organized by Outhouse Medical Malpractitioner Maggy Shin of Polk County Jail and Broadlawns Hospital.  She got the somewhat cogent message that I am trying to humanize disgrace to help handle the AIDS crisis but there are grave drawbacks to her spiteful, malgested upheaval (intended of course as a parochial sneer on the deepest level in defense of Nancy Reagan and Ming Na Wen).  The answer to this is self-respect.  Dissonance from the parochial savage, in distress at Reagan (Ronnie Notron)’s extremism is to be expected, like a two-headed dog, one collie, one rottweiller, the world of Outhouse, an unbreakable collar of K-nine.  When Margaret says I am obsessed with porno she is not listening to what I say and she is not looking at what she eavesdrops.  If she wants to avoid the dock at AIDS Nuremberg she needs to do so now.

Let me move in again, in a seesaw fashion to prevent overdoing it, tot he question of whether Gary Pitman was an agent signifying the involvement of Gary Locke in the assassination of little Jimmy.  Prison is after all a locked pit and I was under a Federal Omerta.  Gary Number One was the most severe of my tormentors, just as Gary Locke has very nearly murdered me on an informal Machiavellian Death Row, Mickeybasque, alias Taliban, Mickey Obama’s Iman Bowie fashion show of the longknife in his capacity as Gary Pitman’s advocate and protector.  Let me touch briefly on Operation: Little Man.  Working with Robert Fripp through sports medicine, Ichiro Suzuki and Ultrahigh proved the existence of an impacted neuroplasm in my facial nerve.  While the parochial opponent savagely labors to confer disgrace on this terrible wound as self-inflicted, one of Locke’s criminally insane vantage points, mind you, they engage in a war game of the post-functional apocalypse called AIDS and Obama’s Let It Be Ark of Kolorz.  You’ll forgive me for withholding my private word for this, since I would only confuse you and it would lead to overindulgent explaining. 

Reagan knowing is proven, but as a source of speculation his “Story of the Bird” is a resource indeed for the hobbycentric.  Was it the last will of J. Edgar/Hitler?  Bequeathed Sean Ono Lennon in his zietgeist for world dominion?  The tactical viciousness of Arnold Schwarzenegger, Patrick Buchanan and Jack Nicholson is anthrax-related.  They’ll set up something sticky on your pinky to cause the audiation, “sticky subject pinko,” evoking the murder of Meat Loaf in Rocky Horror Picture Show, Frankenfurter’s scene, wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave, “Stick subject,” he says as they gag at the dinner table.  Audiation hypnography is an expertise of Pentagon Disney psy-mal recreationally enjoyed by Amanda Harcourt, Peter Gabriel’s most loutish faceliar. 

Like McCartney’s teleportation that allows him to materialize from walls while spending nickels and dimes on the rape of the deaf, on loading contaminated imagery into the web to zappa the psyche of a neurotrauma recovery victim, other areas of ruthlessness unfold, like their demonstration of predestination.  Watching me read Winston Churchill in the College of the Atlantic Library they predicted when I would reach a passage about a drummer and Jon Archer, of Jackson Immunogenetic Labs, walked through the library mysteriously and weirdly attired as a drummer.  One cannot thank Missoula, Montana enough for giving me and Kate Hayford some guidance and rest after we fled there, myself too deranged from fury to think clearly.  They lay in wait a long time in Pittsburgh with their horrid book of letters in my dining room.  What’s the new lie in Ruzyne?  “I had no idea?” again?

In pushing the rather large principle of endorsement pursuing control, Peter Sinfield sent the potboiling question through his crim-saucer lapping recruits, “Think of a cool one word title for a song about a kid following around a girl who dated him once, pushing her other friends away and demanding her whereabouts.  “Hasslin’!” they bark gleefully in merry unison.  The search for the one word trigger summary continues on shirts like, “Hilfiger.”  Limning the schizophrenia of the cargo cult of Kahler (whose house was locked from the inside the night I was surrounded by child assassins), Kasper and Kolorz is a rather long row to hoe.

Being a former pornojunkie is a difficult sale for a politicized witness to abomination in the area of Siddhartha defeats.  Perhaps it is because she is an invader and manufacturing pretext gamer that Patricia Fripp in her wishfulness and deceit can still pose as defending a Jewish nazi in raping two deaf people while evading legal scrutiny for the crimes she commited torturing, targeting, stalking, inciting hate crime as punishment of a witness, but evertime she failed to warn and persecuted me was another day, another month, another year that the guilty partied and her lies became even deadlier to our future.  I do not believe she did the Jewish Community any favors by implicating all of them, all of us, in the misdeed of Reagan’s few.

At the very least Gary Pitman and Gary Locke are in a partnership tryst.  Pitman was a deviant, a maddened dacoit, terroristic, a child molester.  Locke similarly chemically castrated me over abortion when I desperately clawed out of trauma to describe and seek help for what Reagan was doing in the backstreets of Pittsburgh to Ry Crary’s little boy.  We all know how Reagan sent Martin Sheen to Pittsburgh to secure the rape of deaf Jeannie in punish of my talking and how Locke pleasured Midori by piecemealing me while cooing libels about me in her music soured ear.  Locked used pot to justify AIDS.  The stomach problem he organized inflicting is serious.  So serious I’m paying my respects to my brother in Woodstock and the widow responsible next month in New York State before entering the hospital for like maybe forever.  It’s clear my hope that the truth would compel the monster Obama to strike the set on cruelty and sadism most foul was unfounded hope, no he can’t.  He doesn’t have the sense, much less the courage.  All of his lies were sold on the hide of a scapegoat.  While little Jimmy struggled to keep his SAT scores above 550 and 500, Obama had a Yale skull and bones project in his dining room with the antique napkins.

Hatred for protection of the at-risk is the calling card of Cornell Legree West and Dia Galas.  They organized a collection service targetting the disabled claiming we must shell out our virtue to balance their ludicrous abacus.  Behind this monstrous fraud, this craven Pentagon-Disney Taliban, favored by Ringo Starr was Sean Strub who went to the Dakota with Mark David Chapman.  They were in Reagan’s army back when I was at Temple getting letters from a hardcore oriental dame returned addressed, “Just two blocks from the beach.”  In that army was Gail Carolyn Burstyn, still at large, who took me to the film Kiss of the Spiderwoman that ends with a drive-by killing.  This from the land of dreams made real.  She also insisted that we see Prick Up Your Ears.  Made me wonder deeply why Billy Graham’s contact to me came from Mary Precup. 

Among the great chores we have Midori Goto of Aum Shinrikyo Cult to thank for is the story of cathartic justification for the criminal insanity of Robert Fripp and his Gurdjieff Kluk, to thank for rape, torture, 911 and the obscure pseudo-justice of Ultraquake by the Blue House killers.  Yoko Ono plays it that living cats get put into microwaves by crazy Jews.  They do it once.  They do it again, ha ha.  How you like it, bitch!?  Ha.  They do it and lookee see, it’s you this time, haha!  Then finally they collapse in ethereal, eno-induced exhaustion and gratitude, singing Ollie Ollie in come free, because Reagan didn’t know.

This essay is not yet finished and will be revised and properly edited in due course.  It is copyright Steven Arnold Thompson, 2011.

Other articles by Mac can be found at and  Mac can be reached at  He is a resident of Seattle.