Shooting President Reagan, framing him as the author of the AIDS Onslaught and starting a Two Virgins Pussyball War is a lot more serious that Bill Clinton has made it appear, however this isn’t noted by the press because factually Clinton can get away with ignoring what happened due to actions taken by the Zappas, who were the counter-culture gonzo team who made art with the idea of AIDS being manmade, gumming up the works with false perceptions and singling my testimony and circumstance out for mistreatment, torture and abuse over the issue of Leslie Katz, an unrequited girlfriend used to create a stereotype about me, advancing a partnership of Reagan, Clinton and Zappa through such law firms as Kirshner, Prebanik, The Mariners Ballclub, and Tive, implicated in the murder of my father Ryland, who was on the USS San Jacinto with George Bush and a Peace Corps leader after the Great War. Reagan claimed who shot him was important enough to be their allies when they killed my father and tortured me. Not a very responsible position, nor powerful, nor wise.
So, why have I made enemies of the FBI and California Police Departments if I am in a position to say that Reagan has to be protected from himself for his own safety? The reason isn’t strictly speaking a desire for revenge for my old man, nor the fact that the Reagans poisoned me and that I am on the road to an early death, which they circle my family’s children with death threats. The reason is that I believe the United States, our safety and reputation, depends heavily on understanding the facts and circumstances that lead me to believe that Reagan was not really shot, that he staged it. The evidence shows that the law firms and Hollywood special effects teams who had me in the D.C. that day did it to secure a Loyalty Oath to the President after they then pretended to find the script by Gail Burstyn that he authored and planted in my house. Since then they have assembled the gang who tortured me as a child to rape my girlfriend and mobilize with the help of Clinton and British Labor to create a murder tag team demanding a Loyalty Oath to President Reagan at the point of a bedlam gun.
Common street thugs like Bill Gutendorf and Aaron Dixon have been bought up by Oliver Stone and Yoko Ono who authored the situation for Reagan through the Warhols in Pittsburgh when I was attacked piteously as a child. Indeed, the man who crashed our computers at Pitt News when I first went into the business of trying to get help and attention on what Pittsburgh is doing was Mike Seate, a Nazi black man with a big swastika tattoo providing logistics for the Dixon machine in Seattle while Clinton takes action through the Federal Building and Police Union.
Obama’s role in this tragedy is the role of Black Klansman, criminalizing my right to have a wife and family, hold down a job, and even the right to an inner psyche. They have used lewd, unnecessary home invasion and neuroplastic Japanese torture craft to weld a nightmarish inner neuroplasm through my psyche to torture me and extrude by neuro-electricity a recantation if they can get it, a 21st century act of Eno neuroguardsmen that Peter Gabriel and The McCartney Estate convinced everyone in New York City was necessary and justified because of the money at stake once Hollywood is given a Federal go ahead to commission Obama’s desired identity crime about me.
Why was I chosen? That is the word that Gail Burstyn used in her letters, “The chosen brother.” For the same reason James Brady was the real target of Reagan’s hitman, Hinckley, the day he staged the attack for Loyalty Oaths. For the same reason that Outhouse Senator Thos. Harkin seized and destroyed my life’s work, including priceless jingos by a fiddle footed saddle bum by Ward Moore, my grandfather, from a generation of tramp reporters and tramp printers who were ranch workers and worked on the ranges between jobs as news hustlers and printer’s devils, a janitor at times at the Weekly World in Ottawa, Kansas and Topeka Daily Capital, who spent the 1920′s at the Atlanta Constitution and in Montgomery, Alabama, going on to Oklahoma City, and Birmingham, until heading back to Wichita. He worked in Cinncinati, Flordia during the Great War and the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. Some of his finest rhetoric and turns of phrase were lost forever in the Outhouse Purge, along with a photo he took of Eleanor Roosevelt and a long letter from her friend Martha Gellhorn. Clearly men who would shoot us and destroy our past have little interest in anything but Loyalty Oaths.
It’s easy to understand on one level why the Mariners front office would make nice with me, why I would shot up in a callow, farmhand coat at the mourning for Dave Neihaus, and why Ichiro would all but wave to an old fan of Roberto Clemente. I exist, therefore I am. Even in the state of being hustled by child molesters in a sinister identity crime, my existence outvoted by Facebook girls in a crooked International Union vote, deaf poets with ancestry tracing to Plymouth Meeting Pilgrims, and a legacy of being gassed and branded by Auschwitz survivors are hard to come by, even if I proved a little too easy for the AIDS Combine and Obama to pimp in the name of John Lennon with Italian Dragons. The trickery and prepossession of Larry Flynt and Midori Goto operating through such warpos as Lara Lampenfeld, Matthew Thornton and Adolf Sufrin for a Law Firm named Andelman who set me up with Gail Burstyn and Leslie Katz to give Reagan the wedge to murder my father for Bush, is a tagteam of sadists from the City of Faceliars who produced the famous Bob Casey candidate, a dolt from our high school, at the suggestion of Chemistry Teacher Mr. Topp, and the famous Nick Perry Bowling for Dollars 666 scam.
I used to have a letter written in crimson bloodlike ink about Guerilla Theater by Dolly Meieren in which Mr. Topp was the central topic, specifically getting him fired. Meieren was a friend of Ruth Hammer, the teacher I made macrame for and who took a mystery sabbatical when I was kidnapped and tortured under the Tive regime in Highland Park. Hammer Films was responsible for the dinosaur films with Rachel Welch sporting a foreign English from Monty Python whose lookalike makes a cameo in Reagan’s Errol Flynn film of 1942. Reagan’s imprimatur was all over the Burstyn scroll. He waved to me the night before he claims he was shot. All was in order.
The F.B.I. got one of their most penetrating statements about the murder of Tom Wales from me, yet they have a fat man who cases the case depicting me as a fraud and slipping murder signals from Mike Seate’s Tribune Review to Aaron Dixon on behalf of Obama. No reward is good enough, they like to hiss.