Sean Lennon: The Caustic, Stunted Shadow

So much would you expect trippy weirdness in the first degree from hate crimes authored by Yoko Ono, that Lennon’s fanbase are wired out with rapture at the way she pulled strings to make Lennon’s killers into heroes for releasing AIDS.  This proved her the brutal cosmonaut of the lot, Revolutionary No. 1 of No. 9.

The fact that intelligence agencies were mobilized to sexually humiliate me would have been impossible to miss.  Because of the AIDS Onslaught, the tone of this blurred into the way I was being targeted and made clear to me that it was one operation, so I pursued them, while they pursued me.  The remaining Beatles, allies of the murderers refracted what was happening using Lennon’s death to cover up for the nature of me being targeted and used as an AIDS Onslaught utility.

In other words the idea that I was to be compared to Lennon was more important to Sean Lennon than the fact that he was helping those who started AIDS deflect information and this helped to deter discovery of accomplice by the remaining Beatles, all proven by Peter Gabriel’s bogus alibi for Will Zell Broome.

Lennon sniped at me with the science of Godfatherism by angling to show that I am capable of telling someone something wrong because I have been told wrong, as in passing along a bad map, and this science of manipulation was used for the catastrophic purpose of liberating those who released AIDS about which I am anything but wrong.  They wormtongued lies to me, made me believe them and then blamed me for repeating them so they could negate what I contributed that was fact.

As a child I was a study in tormented dishonesty because of the horrors of brutal pedophilia being visited on me by police syndication involved in child bondage black markets in Pittsburgh’s East End.  A profiler to whom I tried to confide what I could in traumatic amnesia ripped my skull open with surreal brutality from the fifth dimension, someone Peter Gabriel to cover for Gail Burstyn.  Something happened to me in Pittsburgh that is really dangerous to everyone and nobody really seems to care.

A psychological operation that Lennon pursued with great intensity was making me out to be a hater of his father like Mark David Chapman.  He didn’t want to be seen as attacking someone who loved his father, so he negated it with the greatest of envy and cruelty, raping my deaf friend in Lennon’s name made Lennon and Chapman into another Stalin and Hitler combination you have to steer clear of the both of.  Flipp’s sister Patricia spitefully upped the ante with the Imperial idea of parasitism as though their American friends had no talents of our own to speak of, an attitude which you find among those British who over-compensate as understudies of decadent Royalty.

Sean Lennon created a doctrine for connectivity of theory to promote the assassins claiming this as proof that awareness was adoption by law of mindslavery, a plebiscite of conscription through subliminal seduction.

I realize that by cultural fiat I am mandated to be the humiliated party, but the spectacle of petty litigation tactics to obscure abomination, while distinctly Japanese in prowess, leaves much to be desired as a focus for respect.  They targeted my sex appeal after furiously abusing me and nobody saw anything wrong with this, they can just do that, see?  Castrate someone as a campus prank.

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