Thomas Hale Gordon, Magna Cum Laude in Social Anthopology at Harvard once remarked dryly, “Perhaps God has a sense of humor.” We know that both Reagan and Hitler did. We also know that the AIDS Onslaught was engineered socially as a great big nuclear jest. The death of rich queers in Europe gave rise to Tragic Doctrine. They apparently sneered, we’ll go along with it to be perverse and glory be to those who die in such valor; taking anyone who tried to escape as a souvenir to hell, much as John Lennon taunted those who refused drugs as uncool.
Nothing so capture the infinite jest of the AIDS Onslaught and the genius of George Bush like the frenzy of nuns in Ken Russell’s film: The Devils. Taunted by the majestic syphilis of the King with a box he says contain the ashes of Jesus they orgy in throes, freeze when he opens it, snickers and behold it to be empty, the pause stiffens and then they thrash back into the agonies.
The Queers of Seattle learned a new word (credibility) in the politics of social climbing and decided they’d better go along with the AIDS Combine or the children they try to impress with the idea that Gay parents are I’m Okay/You’re Okay might be tainted by the shadow of confusion. In aping the chants intoned by credibility politics the murderers of Shannon Harps declared me a, “deeply flawed man,” a stale judgment left over from Kennedy researchers whispering about a New Orleans D.A. A grant of animosity was passed as a torch by HitlerReagan to Obama concerning the pale white liberal defsukke.
Are you embarrassed by liberal values? It’s an ugly commonplace. One can legitimately ask how I lost a cause this behemoth. The Cold War was the antithesis of liberal idealism and it strangulated our hopes for a better world while raiding the public purse. To a great extent the politics of AIDS in America was also the politics of our perceptions about the housing shortage and this play out in Rick Santorum’s deviant seething that Section 8 pornography is breeding a pedophile. AIDS was a demand to COME OUT in play on the pun of dirty secrets. The abolition of privacy as depicted for a lewd situation demanding the regulation of a parochial enforcer was a hoodwink made good with the Detroit bailout.
The public media privately has told me in signal flares, “you lost your case, queerbait.” A suspicious profile of me was developed by local Jews as a person pushing myself where I was unwanted, revealed truth to King Crimson, and this was assimilated by Hillary Clinton’s intelligentsia into a graph of me as a sinner who had violated the public trust in her bid on the draconian controls of the police state. What wasn’t entered into record of their court of public opinion, best named a Taliban, was the neuroplastic head trauma they had inflicted in partnership with a child pornography guild who HitlerReagan vouchsafed as necessary entities in the war on Liberals. The jealous boyfriend persona served Yoko Ono’s bid to put me by piracy into a state of perpetual peonage over the death of Lennon, in partnership with his true killers, as a cover story in Warhol’s Pittsburgh for Gail Burstyn and Mt. Desert Island. The Beatles threw my drug past in my face and unleashed the knowitalls in public blogspots.
Much of my time has been spent on analysis of the political police in the scary affair made bearable to my readers by the presence of black comedy. Reader, you have been slave-conditioned to be put to sleep by attempts to reach you. You must try to stay alert. The police media of the New York Times have sought to engage me, tire me out, in a war of attrition with 40 years of deceitful counter-narrative, talking about it as we go along through an ordeal of Schwarzenegger political theater. The intimate casing of my inhibitions in a demand for sacrilegious transparency escalated to the voices of Ultrahigh and you wonder what with Peter Gabriel’s shop talk of an age where we all hear each other’s thoughts and his intimacy through Pentagon-Disney with NASA, what if people did believe me about the tinfoil hat voices, “You lost your case, queerbait,” and, “you’re going to prison for a long time,” that I wake up to having their origin in the ESP mind game that Gail Burstyn carries on about in her Exorcist screed? They might approve! There may be no limit on the cause of the parochial aggressor, because Reagan didn’t know, nyeah, nyeah.
The medicine bullets that hit JFK and later my father, after Martin Luther King, were an antidote to the naïve idealism of liberal fairies, not to be confused with Godfather Queers. The Asians breeding like rabbits and the Mexicans birthing in Texas hospitals made an X-termination called for. In fact, the marriage of Maria Shriver to Schwarzenegger is the most important political marriage in American history precisely because of the swoon the Kennedy women fell into before the Teuton in antlers hovering over the madman in the aisle to whom it matters most.
Thos. Gordon also once declared that nothing would humiliate Hitler like seeing Germany in the arms of his enemies. It was necessary for Midori Goto to play the role of a woman convinced. No woman goes in for pity sex. The rape of deaf Jeannie and the chemical castration of me was great laugh by those like Muhammed Ali who saw Fundamentalists as being defamed by church-hating liberal defsukke who cudda saved John Lennon. CCAC went to great lengths degrading me by the extraction of my fiancé while the venomous Islamofascist behind 911, Robert Fripp, targeted the children in my family and denounced me as an empty set, to be devoided of children, after publicly butchering an embryo of mine, beautiful and executioned, at CMU. We don’t want to be changed, hissed Bowie.
Reagan was from Dixon, ill. He offered a quid pro quo to Dixon ill. An A for an A in pussyball Ron to Aaron Dixon. Midori Goto was every bit as much to blame for the murder of Shannon Harps as the man who held the knife. I woke up to the voice, “Ringo is laughing his….off,” and well he might, having sided with Hitler.
Seattle Queers are beyond stupid and culpable. They announce that in terrifyingly humiliating a trauma care victim about brutal pedophiles was withholding a secret from my mother. Two Virgins pussyball was a horrific hate crime, but was also long planned. Andrea Swimmer pushed herself on me with an I.U.D. for Braunstein when I was 14 years old and John Stockwell of the C.I.A. following me to Allentown in 1987.
The British advance by a mind game declaring AIDS the last act of the Cold War, by brrrstyn. They engage in hemispheric manipulation, pitting public sympathy, Reagan didn’t know, against pathos, the rape of deaf Jeannie, allowing Ringo Starr and the Zappas escape hatch to prevail as heroes. Lennon was used for a holy light so saleable that they didn’t bother to warn the public what wuzzup, getting the media to spy on Where’s the Beef for Donna Rice. Gurdjieff culture was organized by Barking Pumpkin Records and Hidden Pun to cover for the AIDS war game on Mt. Desert Island with Leslie Katz while a church in Maine nearby asked the deaf, “if you died right now would you go to heaven? Yes or no, quick, quick!” The church has a sister branch in Jonestown where no one was permitted escape on the day that Queerbasque’s allies murdered Harvey Milk.
Ah, the an English. Oh, well. Damn fascists, anyway.