An Open Letter to Susar Fedov

Dear Susar Fedov,

Having a rational audience keeps me well enough to address by pen my meaning to anyone willing to read.

I understand your fury at those who will not even bear witness, who refuse to stake their lives on such a minimal non-violent expectation as that of truth, who allow the city of asylum to implode on the heads of the truly needy, those scorched and at risk due to their political beliefs, so you are impatient with the brags of those who merely wish they dared, the liberal educator who laughs, rather than listens, to the misinformed idealism of their pupils.

Of course some of the silent are in torment.

I tried this morning to look into the eyes of a sistuh, an investigator on the streets of the peace, black in beauty, keeper of the sprite-like ego I see in my own mirror, looking into the reflection in a bus passing by, imagining she was the reflection I’d see every day, and in truth it was easy to do, she was so much like me, but I couldn’t hold her gaze. It was asking a stranger to look into a personal wound, like distrust not of a physician’s capacity to diagnosis, but of my own strength to integrate more bad news. Not that there was no love, that that it could not save me.

James Baldwin knew better than anybody I think the pain involved in acceptance of each other. This is raceful but surpasses race when the subject is disappointment in liberal teachers, and your hard words about such educators speaks of a failure to accept. You are right, I think, in suspecting that you are protecting the weak by your scorn for them. They after all turned their backs, turned me out, by way of example, let me be horribly, horribly tortured, severely, permanently injured, and now deny it. There are, to be sure, no words that can condemn them enough, but, knowing that, they have hardened their souls against letting a whisper of the truth in the door of their establishment, even though at this late date it could still make some sort of difference. It is as though they can only stand the thought of total defeat. In addressing such liberalism you paint the town with the judgment of Dylan Thomas, “rage, rage against the dying of the light.” They in answer, brag loudly against seeing how they bowed their heads when realizing what they were up against us, preferring, in the manner of the recent generation, to hand down to their children the wasteland they are creating by their fear.

James Baldwin said, “Any real change implies the break-up of the world as one has always known it,” (Nobody Knows My Name), “the loss of all that gave one identity, the end of safety. And at such a moment, unable to see and not daring to imagine what the future will now bring forth, one clings to what they knew or thought they knew,” and of course, my gentle friend Susar Fedov, I’m asking that without wanting to be asking that. It makes the AIDS Combine laugh like a baby to see how they got away with it.

Call it the government or the freedom of people who make up the political spectrum, but it was organized on a very official level. They plotted out in advance a HAIR Generation brainwashing of a hostage child, then manipulated the neuroplastic injury from torture into a Post-HAIR trauma Mental Health Review justifying the AIDS war game on Mt. Desert Island, in broad daylight, and King Crimson, working with PITT through Gurdjieff cult detectives, sponsored a long petition of peers justifying it, they really did this. Just from the point of view of sociology all those peers denying it is very interesting. Sean Lennon’s little storybook political correctness lies played well with sophomores, but what really happened is very poignant. The United Bible Fellowship was active here, and greatly enjoyed from places like Korean Church making a crying monkey of Jimmy Crary, child of a humanist. It was in keeping with Franklin Graham’s theme that the humanist is a devil communist, which he all but literally said. Susar Fedov, you can handle the truth.

The fact that Dia called me to announce the death of Lennon proves that the assassin group predicted the agonies and sent churchly forces, mocking the diabolicism of the afflicted to orchestrate their sad response to rejection by claiming themselves, as leaders of the victims, through the assimilation by suicide of Sean Strub from Jewish Holocaust survivors involved, the most arcane examples of the crucible, leading, like the pirohuettes of King Crimson gyrations, to protestations of sacred uplift through ordeal, a Gurdjieff calling card. Liberal professors might state, well, those Zappas, you know, being in the limelight with heavy ego-tripping doesn’t really confer wisdom, does it? The sad fact is the truth may be a greater and more sinister backstab.

We see in the doctrine by which I was exampled, the demand for example of stoic acceptance, the upperclass, the superclass attempt to demand of the low and downtrodden the dignity of Death Valley days pioneers, the proud aura of poor men working towards God who refused charity out of pride, faith-based compassion we once knew as starvation, and this buddy lock on the flim-flam decreed that failure to warn would be considered more artful, and allowing the guilty domain ever so infinitely perverse, as only a true sacred pupil of Sir Paul McCartney would know their whole heart.

Cindy Corbett’s presence at CCAC when Rosa did her dirty for Geffen and Obama can only mean that what Harpers Magazine held to be their dissertation of justice in the matter, was infallible despite neglecting to review it on the most elementary standards of honesty, fair play, cross examination or the rights of the invaded, mutilated and then accused. Reagan never had a reputation in my book, but Aaron Dixon should be concerned for his after tormenting a childhood victim of brutality this criminally insane.

Pittsburgh is better than Seattle towards me. Can you imagine, in a million years, how vanquished I must feel saying such words? Are these two cities in fact the only place I would have even survived?

I try to believe, Susar Fedov, that you mean to fight the good fight in your refusal to be gentle to the Liberal Educator, but I fear it is madness. They are the only hope we have.


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