Baseball died for me with Roberto Clemente.  Like Rip Van Sickle, I slept away the entire era of Three Rivers Stadium.  The Pirates won a World Series under manager Jim Lehland one year while I lived in Pittsburgh and my mother’s friend Patsy Williamson had to convince me that this was true when she mentioned it years later.  Supposedly I woke up with the arrival of Ichiro Suzuki and made a number of contorted gyrations comparing the two fellows, their minority status, their grace, and so on, but something has fallen into place that singles all this out as singularly derisive attempt to scam me on the score of naivete yet again, as was a well known hobby of Pittsburgh towards me as a victim of child mutilation and chauvinism.  Isn’t it more true that Ichiro is a braggart Go-chip by Roberto’s killers and that every time he steps to the bag we should be screaming in pain at their stridency?

 

You asked for it by your sordid, sullen viciousness towards me.  You had a chance to turn it around.  Now you will get what you came for from me.  The truth about yourselves and it is what you deserve.

 

If you scour the android zone for copy about why Ry Crary’s boy, who I mean is me, is cursed to use the parochial slur of the local checkered buffoons lording in hate over citizen’s band, you will find Miles Kirshner’s claims of longstanding repute in the dens of ill-repute we call Labor to know “the real Jim Crary.”  This is the undermind of the lord and master in poison crime King Crimson, the vibrating neuroplasm that caused me to shriek in suffering when Rosa fucked me into seizures during their home invasion episodings.  The real Jim Crary they get from the man who had me in D.C. on the day that Reagan claims he was shot, the men who placed me libelously as the driver at Kelly School and wrote of kidnapping, beating and mutilating a persona that they constructed Walrus style in farcical identity crime.  A property you say.

 

This seems very riddlelike, until you understand what The Reagans really did in murdering JFK and creating a Humanist AIDS Jesus with Pink Floyd and Vince Eirene of Pittsburgh Catholic.  Why do you expect better than a backstab and a bomb of cruel, devious intricacy from the sadism of Martial Japanese working with a billionaire tinkerbell with split personality like Peter J. Sinfield?   The Secret Service in their suppression of the The Seattle Times, by company default, voids the ability of Our Commonwealth’s people to interpret reality.  Such a society, claiming Christian Foundations, is braying of medievalry.

 

In looking at a painting from the Medieval Era, early Renaissance, the Pre-Raphaelites, and so on, an expert will note with shrewd cognition the details and the meaning behind the chosen window frames, the ornamentation, the posture, the dress, the position of hands, the riddle of the Di Vinci Codes at work.  An ordinary person would grunt, huhn, and maybe dislike a painting for its dated style, but these cognitive elements are well at work and the artist was well aware of them.  When Michelangelo, doing important paintings for the Pope in Florence and Rome was allowed to sneak into the mortuary at night to study cadavers he could have gotten himself and the attending Bishop in big trouble, excommunication might have resulted or worse.  Medicine itself wasn’t accepted in America, in the world anywhere in fact, until the discovery of anaesthesia.  Once people couldn’t feel, gross out, scream in pain at what doctors were doing, medicine came to be regarded as less offensive.  This in turn allowed studies to identify that women didn’t really get hysterical because their uteris was floating.  As the Pope allowed people their illusion that the Earth revolved around the Sun and that Satan wasn’t behind insanity, life expectancy and humanist schools began to become more popular, leading to the horrid backlash against America by sicko Fundamentalists like Robert Fripp of King Crimson, an Imperial Wizard of racialist Medievalry.

 

People however remain anaesthetized when it comes to Semiotics.  If I said, “the symbolism in films analogous to the symbolism in painting” you’d understand what I mean by Semiotics.  You aren’t supposed to look for semiotic skeletal structures.  In the case of Reagan Semiotics when you do come to understand what they did, you find a devious, chronic, consistent pattern, and this pattern is a map to his political action.  Reagan couldn’t come right out and say what he was doing without getting into trouble, but he went to great lengths and was painstaking in rubbing our faces in it.  His speeches echo the same imagery.  Japanese Cinema is rife with the pattern from his own gloating films:  Scorn for America, the plan to murder JFK, Two Virgins Pussyball, the rescue of Hitler and the AIDS Onslaught are all of them carefully encrypted over and over and over again.  The reason that I am an object of a Federal witchhunt and Labor torture, rape and murder is the black market value Reagan arranged by having me in D.C. when he set up his alibi, alledgedly being shot by the gang he employed to used me as an AIDS testing guinea pig, the gang who he says shot at him:  A Pittsburgh Labor Mafia that included the Special Effects Team from 20th Century Fox.  They had me in D.C. that day.   He waved to me, and now, in horrible treason, you are maniacally chopping me to pieces in medical malpractice mayhem.

 

The scumminess that is emitted from Ichiro’s fanbase in the Sports Forum at Seattle Times towards me in defense of Reagan is a persona developed by military intelligence men about me put together by the gang who had me in D.C. when Reagan claimed they shot at him.  Defending the rape of my girlfriend, Reagan evoked their schizoid man allegations.

 

Reagan was the salesman for something big, funny thing is he didn’t tell us what it was they were selling.  This has evolved into a big, foreign English Celebrity Takeover Plot and there are a number of reasons why King Crimson has been getting away with such acts as 911.   The AIDS Onslaught includes the murder of JFK and Ichiro’s chronic humiliation of me, Midori Goto’s pouting with elite symbols of Africa, a token tactic favored by Geffen Corporation who installationed Obama in the name of Miles Kirshner’s special envoy for Nancy Reagan, my ex-girlfriend Leslie Sanetta Katz.  Midori’s aggrandizing of Black trophy figures mirrors Hitler’s propaganda films about Mussolini saving the ah, poors of Ethiopia, like anyone believes the altruism of Mark Nordenberg in Pittsburgh, the Chancellor of the University who repaid my father Ryland by murdering him in the stomach, a practice that continues at Sound Mental Health towards me.  Their guiding star is Leni Reisenstahl, who went from Hitler’s arms in love to African savannahs without a hitch.  It’s a mistake to see the murder of Roberto  Clemente in any other light, but the Green Party took right to it like it was a holy war all for them.

 

This happened in part because Barack Obama is a pruerile individual.  Reagan’s goal wasn’t just to appoint an African American U.S. President but to find one so craven and spineless he would sneer in unison at every faction and purpose who had ever sacrificed or worked ardently to make such an eventuality possible.  They are using King’s name, with the production forces of Oliver Stone behind them, as the Pied Piper of mass murder.  Japanese martial spin doctors understood Gandhi as a utility, and a graven image for English rock stars to sell their penii by.    Long experience with Robert Fripp and his sickening posturing has exposed him for me as cut from the cloth of Jesse Helms, so it hardly surprised me when I castigated Jacob Eide, the psychologist from International District Health Services about the consequences, sad and scary, of prilosec poisoning, he gave me a sharp profile.  The foreign and controlling motives of Reagan Labor are as deceitful as they are immoral.

 

Part of the reason why the Left was so easy to invade with The Green Party and Obama is that Reagan actually understood Mau Maus like Aaron Dixon and the appeal of Angela Davis a lot better than they understood themselves.  The MK-Ultra, the use of lookalikes, tokens all came naturally to the CIA.  Even guerilla war in America is easily outfoxed by the Vietnamese loyalists.  The Left, barring those macabre weirdn’s The Weathermen, were always so confused by drugs that they seldom understood that they were choking on the tear gas of British marijuana in the new Opium War so badly that they couldn’t make out that the bluebird of happiness, The Bill of Rights, wasn’t any further away than City Hall.  Occasionally someone like Larry Gossett would stumble in drunk to the building and dust off something in the cellar and his eyes would shine, “Look at this!  Lawd Today!  Freedom of Speech!?”

 

As one Japanese film depicts for OZ, Reagan attacked his own country because he felt it was called for.  The method is archetypal tokenism.  You know the style.  The confused kid on the block attending meetings against Police Brutality, his voice shaking at the microphone about what he doesn’t want the Church to know, sees a Latino woman in offense and thinks, she’s a minority, that means she’s a good guy, nevermind her background with LaRouche and the fact that she is a millionaire with stock in Halliburton.  Those thieving, murdering English know it well.  They commited an identity crime about me, put words in my mouth, called them treason and then shot people saying I deserve to die for their crimes because I’m white.  Sinister child-raping pro-Obama meatheads like David Summerlin of the Stranger Newspaper coo. 

 

The foundation of Queer Seattle is still beastial after their lobotomy, and they project their sinister chickenliness on me by muttering refrains from Oliver Stone, like “deeply flawed man,” cheering when the Japanese make off with their secret war trophy:  Van Gogh’s Sunflowers, and Ichiro smiles as he kills.

 

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