Fuck You It’s the Truth

The script that Mellon Institute scientist in Advanced Materials and Devices Paul Runco and his brethren wrote in advance about the release of AIDS was designed to make AIDS victims into a class enemy towards me as a person who was tortured and sent the Burstyn letters. Many Queers are upper class, distain the cause of illegal immigrants, and don’t want to be held responsible for collusion with those who started AIDS, so they created a lie to live out in denial. When I went to the University of Pittsburgh in October of 1993 with the evidence of torture and terror attack, it should have been resolved in my favor overnight. Instead, they embarked on a psychiatric nightmare where issue after issue has been permitted to advantage the assassins while justifying endless ordeals of obscene police state horror crime. In the hallmark of wishful thinking, a gang of schizophrenics have been deployed to allege that no one has the right to take me seriously concerning the true authors of the crime, in this way schizophrenia has been the last line of attack in years of obsessive criminal abuse by the Federal Government towards an innocent person whose name they grabbed, whose body they tortured, while forging my persona on the script they sold to pull it off. Help never came. In fact, the assassins have claimed a right to use me in mutilation and vivisection to punish my attempts to secure even the most elementary due process, screaming with hate at the idea that they owe me my rights.

 

Character assassination attends my testimony like a virulent Rottweiler of sadistic malice, claiming that I didn’t do enough to try and protect myself, this while arresting me for going to police seeking help. Sleeping on your rights they call being driven into horrid neurotraumatic panic and terror as a deaf child mutilationed in sickening, sexual, Manson-like ordeals, and this pathetic, beastial ordainment over the cries of pain came from the Palace of London who, after jeering that they were from Amnesty International, brutally raped my sign language advocate, a deaf, orphan girl with Downs Syndrome and then publicly hissed at me, “Did they use a ball gag?” This came from the desk of Peter Gabriel, spokesperson for Amnesty International through the lynch gang he arranged for Runco at Carnegie Mellon led by Cameron Brown of the New York Times. What gives?

 

Trying to sort out this foul play issue by issue which is a derisive, unspeakable mockery of our entire Constitution presents an odious, crooked, demented backlog of terror crimes, endorsed and enforced by such representation as the Red Witch Trial which I was put on by the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette when they knew in 1986 and knew I didn’t. They knew because they co-authored it. The crime is so insane and the perpetrators so evil that the psyche is shattered by encounter with their royalism, wealth and demonism. Informed by the tragic fact that John Lennon never cared a whit for anyone else’s rights, they have deployed conscription into the voiding of rights in his name. You call an insanely frightened deaf child cowering in neuro-traumatic horror sleeping on your rights? As the police threaten murder and organize ripper homicide as a form of psychiatric stalking and enforcement? What gives?

 

Robert Fripp of King Crimson runs a sort of Blackwater, Inc. of professional communication skills for the deployment of police brutality. He is a sickening militarist who positioned himself to inform on counter-culture while his sister Patricia cut a deal with Colin Powell. He is a crypto-magnate who has developed a switchboard of signals like football quarterbacks calling out numbers where the presumption of his deranged, evil, syphilitic jurisdiction is completely unchallenged online. To no avail do I report this to police, hospital, family or school. I was birthed by a mother who planned my martyrdom.

 

They ripper murdered me as a living witness with intent to cruelly extrude my books in recreational sadism, forcing me to play out my role in denial of the identity crime that they committed, these fiends of hellish manipulation at the F.B.I. have created a laboratory of police violations to measure impunity against a tormented, unarmed, law-abiding deaf dependent who was enculturated by deranged brutality as a child to helplessness, a helplessness enforced by police powers down to the actions of my school. No one will do anything to step forward and help. No, but they scoff as witness. My lawsuit for 30 million of worthless gold is meaningless in a destroyed life, not even a symbolic victory. Alive, but debilitated, they destroyed me for talking, brought upon me absolute loss selling their rude adventure in police piracy, a police piracy they sponsor, cackling of their largesse. What do they care if I win? It’s the best 30 million that Hollywood ever spent.

 

I live in fear and constant harassment, no recognition of the rights that were voided is ever accorded, the object’s life was destroyed very gratuitously for refusal to accept the role they designed, and they murdered me medically to their ends. I am in school trying to understand how such magnitude of horror was done so cruelly and so openly for so long in front of everyone. The idea of my suing just deepens their venom towards me as a laughingstock. The assassins can print all the money in the world.

 

This testifies to a Ripley’s Believe it or Not situation of total abridgement of rights, slow murder of a witness for maximum cruelty and savage impunity, a jest from on high, extrusion for pleasure reading, torture as compensatory loss to an innocent person from the smug, psychopathic towelhead of Youssou N’dour engaged in remorseless attrition and surreal unspeakable acts of terror crime, with the blessings of Francobama, seething, creaming and destroying the evidence as they go.

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