King Robert E. Lee Crimson

It is very difficult to understand, I am sure, why I would comply with the neuro-compulsive ultimatum to announce my castration to the world in total humiliation. It seems, I am sure like masochism. When the child-raping Peter Gabriel vowed that he would use force on the hate object to, “wear your inside out,” he was robbing me of the right to remain silent by neuroplastic extrusion. The rape of deaf Jeannie, the slasher murder of Shannon Harps and his brutal targeting of the children in my family were his vow of murder and terror if I did not comply with his total humiliation decree.


The Beatles have laughingly prided themselves over the years on the infamous words of John Lennon that they were the most bigoted, baseborn chauvinists of all. In order to make good on that claim we would have to understand their rivals for that distinction: Joe, the father who shot his daughter in the back in a film about the counter-culture. Mao, a man who ravaged his own people in a barbaric genocide. Charlie Manson, who sacrificially murdered people to feed his celebrity as a deranged guru. The Beatles, to their eternity pride, make these vicious monstrosities look like pikers with their hypocrisy, and they gloat about it, as is their wont.


When King Crimson are not practicing their pecksniffery on Colin Powell and Oliver North, they are currying favor for the syphilitic Prince McCartney, twirling his parasol and sampling perfumes.   It would have been very, very easy to defeat Hitler. All they would have had to do was show pity to James MacRyland Crary. The pain from the betrayal is greater than the shocking humiliation. The weapon of the rabid was parochial innuendo, smear, libel and stigma. If you admire that as a statement of solidarity in the name of an Ayn Rand Queer Corporation who withheld badly needed public health information in evil hour, then you have found your Warlord in King Robert E. Lee Crimson.

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