MK-Ultra for the Dregs

Tears are good in the sense that it means you can still be disappointed and still have belief in your fellow man.  Those who hate tears enough to pursue them by viciousness are the sort of Pittsburghers, some of them still in power, like Peter Leo, who think nothing of torturing children, crushing them until they are dead inside.  What is the point of diplomatic commentary about them?

Stamping out Ryland, my father, began with poisoning and humiliating me.  The facial nerve throttling in suffering that causes me relentless pain has to be considered when evaluating text about his demise.  Accordingly, I want to go into how Peter Gabriel advocated for these murderers, knowing they were poison criminals, from The Crown of England, with the heartbreaker he sent as his destroyer occupying a place in the University of Pittsburgh that took Ryland’s life and rewarded the assassins.

Rosa will always have more power than my father.  First she came from a political momentum that doesn’t really care about schools.  They are rock music crusaders who make albums about burning schools down in the manner of Hitler and Reagan.  They take their general immunity from critical review by invoking the hysteria that comes with the name John Lennon.  As a masterstroke, they blamed me for his death to promote this ugly vision of destruction.  Thinking nothing of terrible hate crime, of lying to the face of their prey, they naturally lose no sleep over professing friendship to the school they first betrayed and then occupied.

How the mission statement of a University in the United States of America can embrace and include in its charter the idea of rape as karma and slasher murder as Administration of Justice needs to be examined, and I mean hard, in looking at Pennsylvania Higher Education, especially the violent crime coming into Pittsburgh from Temple University where Gabriel forged an alliance between white El Salvadoran mercenaries like William Wheeler, Lou Leto, Director of Afghanistan Army Command, both former roommates, Will Zell Broome, a white Nazi, and The Black Panthers.  This was commercial art, money talk from The Rolling Stones.  The idea of it having civil ascendancy at PITT is a crying, screaming outrage.

I want to violate taboo a moment and discuss how John Lennon helped set up the situation that he was shamelessly used for in a partnership between Paul McCartney and the plotters who killed him as a portfolio function in their political agenda.  The fact that this took place is obvious from the fact that Gail Burstyn was never arrested and that Peter Gabriel wrote the alibi for Will Zell.  Lennon was a promoter of LSD among the young and had a gamer’s idea of mind games of the sort of pun craft that is something of an exclusive intellectual domain for Royal cadres groomed from birth by aristocracy to take their elitist place with Diplomas from expensive, exclusive schools like Oxford.  The LSD that John Lennon took was exclusive, pure, and for the elite as well.  He never cared that the MK-Ultra made far more poisonous substances for the dregs.

Our society re-introduced slavery after the Civil War in the form of Black Codes, and Jim Crow segregation laws and customs.  The perpetuation of the Vietnam War, which began with the Vichy French in alliance with the Axis Tripartite, was another perpetuation of slavery among the poor.  The MK-Ultra experiments were intended to create inner city conditions of prostitution and drug slavery that would compromise uplift and forward progress.   The British knew all this because they had used this strategy before in the Opium Wars.  When Lennon promoted LSD he helped set up a strategy that the AIDS Combine used to entrap and blame the victims of organized, political poison crime.  The leaders of Act-Up were among those who closed the gates and prevented escape.

The scummy facts of how LSD was forced upon me by terrible beatings in pre-pubescence should be acknowledged, but I also know that Eben Platt gave me, as a child, strawberry mescaline to delude me with its soft, ethereal nirvana into being less resistant to the nightmare poison that Cervi was yet to administer, as documented by Gail Burstyn in letters naming William Wattenmaker of Neurobehavioral Research who Rosa was recruited to defend in barbaric sexual attacks on their prey.

There is a theme of poetic justice in the idea that the man who cudda saved John Lennon be heartbroken for life.  Suppose one were to question the premise?  Might they not start looking at those who really killed him instead of someone who knew nothing about it and was victimized themselves?  The reason that this is forbidden by the New York establishment is that Jimmy Crary was prescribed an ideological role of obedient slave to John Lennon that was meant to humiliate his father, and Yoko Ono, as a Japanese apologist for the Axis wants my father humiliated far more than she ever wanted Gail Burstyn brought to justice.  This fact is a mystery.

Jennifer Rubin, often published in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, and the daughters of Shelley Friedman were friends of Gail Burstyn.  Gail wrote, “joy, joy, joy it’s Beth and a goy,” about me and Elizabeth Blumenfeld of whom Cindy Rudy’s friend Dominic Migliosi would make cross-eyed gestures and say, “She rams.”  I never really understood the remark, but I do understand that Oxford pun craft is involved in the alliance of Blumenfeld with Gellomini, the man who first punched me as a kid.  They are Blumenminis, or blue meanies, for short.  This sort of riddlesome permeates the criminal syndicate to whom America has entirely fallen in the AIDS Onslaught.

Beth also had something in common with Leto, mysterious insistence on a twisted ankle, a possibly meaningless pattern, attributed in the case of Lou Leto to voodoo skills he imagined from what he said was my snorting acid, leading a girl named Crystal to knock on my door and ask, “Are you the one who’s mystical?”  Shortly before Dia called, who worked at the New York Voodoo Museum, and announced the murder of Lennon.

The writhing Jimmy Crary rakes the dust with chewn fingernails, a ghost in from Treblinka, crimson knife firmly implanted in his back.

PITT was used for a pit, and they kicked me out for finding out.

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