I am writing to you again about the terrifying and cruel humiliation I am enduring and have endured for over forty years, terrible beatings, insane acts of depravity, threats against my family’s children, the rape of my best friend, and many terrible serial indignities at the hands of extremely morbid hate criminals, operating without police review, who are fully aware of them, after they claimed to be from Amnesty International. I want to explain a little bit about the humiliation, who they are, while showing what they are doing against the claims they have made about what they are doing.
They have left me no choice. The horror of public humiliation this terrible and insidious has become the only hope I have of getting the evidence and testimony out into the public in the hopes of finding civil review. There is a reason it came to this. As a child murderers mauled me. The Reagans set me up so that they could take me hostage to the brutal pedophiles involved as a punishment for speaking out. Then they blackmailed me, if I did not play along with it, they would humiliate me by forcing me to describe how I was horrendously mauled. They set upon me by kiddie porn traffickers as a gradeschool child. They stock housed the film narrative with terroristic adult events for their serial and interrogation re-enactment.
My investigation into the sex and death cult which led me to Mt. Desert Island pursuing the evidence that AIDS was a military attack compromised my ability to get help from the tormentors who tortured me in childhood. To investigate I had to make myself vulnerable to vice action designed to convey appearance of high risk for the ends of an AIDS testing war game, long premeditated.
Disbelief and denial are different and have different motives. Our Police Administration entirely side with the Reagans and Obama in this insane brutality and lifelong ritual abuse mission by those who released the AIDS Onslaught. They chose to attack a child they defined politically as an object to strike down blindside as ideological fixxe of Reagan’s obsession and hatred of liberalism, rather than attempt to arrest the truly guilty.
The murderers are as devious as they intimate. They conceived of their terrible invasion as a jihad of the soul. There was no reason I should have been forced to match wits with them. They want me to pay for the truth with my life and think this is a marvelous outcome of Executive power in a war game.
Celine Dion’s partner Peter Sinfield was behind the fallacy paradigm that they evoked to justify themselves, a brutal fraud about me being the embodiment of the AIDS Combine’s contemptuous attitude for freedom of love. Braying of their largesse and completely unafraid of a lawsuit, or I should say amused by the idea, having money to burn, they invested in Los Vegas girls to launch chilling attacks on my reputation, targetting an impacted neuroplasm they knew about experimentally. Celine Dion made justifications for Will Zell Broome’s postcard surrounding my name with positive and negative signs, send during the AIDS war game on Mt. Desert Island, and tried to destroy the evidence showing that he was planning this war game from a time predating AIDS, and Dion did this, evoking Lennon’s name, on behalf of his killers. Since police are behind them and they own The White House they can easily buy their way out by blackmailing the entire history of the United States.
The humiliation of Ward and Marie Moore is part of what Pittsburgh Police have demanded as a price for allowing the truth about how I was tortured as a child to be put into the web as a statement of horror and suffering. Police are trying to summon the courage to look at the evidence of my investigation, they do not want to be called against rock stars, much less Reagan.
Robert Fripp’s job was to put a stop to this the minute it was discovered and warn people at risk, instead he used me for a deranged military barometer and incited hostile acts by deranged Seattle Queers. As the co-author of the fallacy paradigm accusing of something they knew had not even ever taken place, they leered at catastrophic injury, and set upon a deaf student in psychotic military depravity so mentally ill and deranged that the mind is shattered. To justify themselves they laughed, oh, well, we knew someone with AIDS. They criminalize the idea of my faith as somehow related to their misfortune and project and exploitable for their orgy of tasteless meaning. After working their horrible scam, accusing me of something they knew had ever even taken place, a non-crime, from their conjurings only, they consecrated the scam, collecting sex violently from my only friend as their due and molesting me sexually again. Police ignored what was done to me and Jeannie and the abomination behind our suffering, despite Carnegie Mellon students advertising their gang violence on the cover of a terroristic magazine they planted at school for everyone to see.
The Police Department is supposed to realize by now that they did something shockingly wrong.
The British assassins used neurological coercion to command sexual self-dirtying and triggered seizures punitively when I resisted them, from a Frankenstein wound they brutally impacted, for nothing would they stop or show a shred of pity, dignity or decency. Braying of his sacred African insight, which included slasher murdering a woman in the beginning of her life, Peter Gabriel commanded me to again and again depict through shattering tears how I was bukkaked as a nine year old, not to summon help, not to protect me, but to jeer, to humiliate Ward and Marie Moore and to carp that it was Xala, the spitballs hurled at a black man who tried to commit graft in a famous African movie, boy did the Black Panthers howl for more of that soul food of degradation towards the deaf white suck, for Midori Goto was divine, and Leslie Katz was a synthesizer who worked the method on the mind of the child deranged by SADISM.
Celine Dion is all about the right to dream big. Peter Gabriel is in DREAM COMMAND AND CONTROL from Geffen Records, he is the eye in the pyramid of sacred success in rock and roll, the kingpin of poker alchemy, they assigned a place for the queerbait of human rights. PITT was determined to prove it: Naive idealism, what a laugh.