Gen. Edwin Walker, who led the uprising at University of Mississippi by racists against the escort by Federal troops ordered by Kennedy of James Meredith to class later fabricated allegations against Oswald and was the star witness, we now know that he placed a call right after the assassination, before talking to Dallas authorities, to his friends in Germany.   If you think of the destruction of Kennedy and his allies Patrice Lumumba and Dag Hammarskjold by assassination as part of an attempt to stagecoach a re-storytelling of liberalism as decadent, the nature of reality, why bad things happen to nice people, you get the parallel to the way Weimar Republic was attacked and depicted, as November criminals, and decadent, not for its high purpose and sparkling achievements but as depicted in Hollywood by films like Liza Minnelli’s Cabaret so like Jack Ruby’s joint (the Carousel Club).   Fact is, the evidence is mounting that the Axis was behind the murder plan and that since that the United States has been cheering its adoption.

        In the strange case of James MacRyland Crary hatched in the neighborhood of Cyril Wecht, holocaust survivor advisor called Squirrel Hill and author of the book Grave Secrets, you find that Donald J. Trump and Peter J. Sinfield worked together fabricating violations of Civil Rights of torrential magnitude as a Holy Order objective they claim was absolutely invested with a mandate of truth, with abnormal gestures of escalating to Ultrahigh powers of Pentagon Disney the likes of which capabilities are not public knowledge in the American definition of the term.  They dubbed the Texas Schoolbook an old curiosity shop with worldwide prerogative over American loyalties. It has a very specific language and contextual vocabulary as certain as the scent of a lethal poison.

      Lewis Lapham, working for Reagan through Harpers and his own private quarterly, used my correspondence with Robert Fripp to make pulp fiction out of childhood trauma, not exactly a Holy Order of truth.   They made difficult statements from neuroplastic amnesia in crisis setting into what Leo Sauvage would characterize as “exotic accounts” necessary to Peter Gabriel’s meta-narrative of to the face lying, a trafficking similar in nature to the Warren Report, in other words a storyteller’s upload intended as a lead into creation of mass psychology for traditional intimidation of the public into loyalty to the sale.   Lapham and Gabriel misused my short story Chasing an Echo to forge fulfillment of a deranged war plan rather than rescue. He did this with a gang in place to provide slanders suitable to his myth-making by meta-narrative, an appalling crime, on hand at WQED. Matt Marcus put up a band called Whisper for the occasion because they were running a whisper campaign of acid rock gaslighting techniques with the help of King Crimson, to cover all trace of child mutilation and abomination crime that left me destroyed.   They took as gospel the obvious ventriloquism behind the suggestion of the whispers and followed a script that was entirely deranged, using paper shredders to cover up the supporting text by the very authors stating that voice-overs were being used to “construct a persona” by “forces impinging on the persona’s experience.” Still no police came to defend the hate object.

         There were environmental processes at work around the name signifier Matt Marcus, too, where Leslie Sanetta Katz led me with the words, “hide here under my cloak.”  His gang painted, “Beat me, beat me, make me write bad checks,” on the elevator to their loft. Lapham seems to have known all about Burstyn, coveted her as a brainstorm of Daniel Boorstin’s hidden history themes, and referred to Sharon Samuels’ ploy before introducing me to Burstyn of tinkling little bells to test if my deafness was real.  The tinkling of little belles is pregnant language that appears in the ciphers of his trip with the Beatles to the Maharishi.

         We know that King Crimson’s special fetish has always been vivisection and serial mutilation of a fan who they lured to their hot poker in the fireplace.  It may sound strange, but my libido was a divining rod into the entrapment plot behind the AIDS attack. When Wm. Hogarth captured the Gin Alley women giving rum to their newborn he set in motion evaluation of art for genetic mutation.  Sinfield trumped him by running a retort against the United States for Hiroshima, gunning down the Kennedys and pouring acid on my facial nerve. This military medical malpractice by the Axis is supported with shrieks of mania in Pittsburgh, which McCartney compares to Liverpool in his public relations, blowback, in other words, to be normalized like Agent Orange in mother’s milk.

        By uploading a terrible, simple-minded psychology into mass evaluation, the coast was clear for epic enrichment of time-tested tactics like encrypted encoding.  Esther Waldron at Falk Medical Library in 1984 cued me to the delicious differences between initialisms and acronyms. At the time, having not read Leo Sauvage, I didn’t know that Locked Rooms were considered a genre of spy novels, but she did have a Locked Room file and it was hard to get out of anyone what that really was, a fact I reported to Erica Jongh, whose works were there.   Waldron’s favorite scene was in Clouseau when he smashes what a witness cries out to be a priceless Steinway. She always repeated his accent, “Not any muure.”

Given that we know the men who tortured me in 1973, attacking me blindside, jumping out of the hedgerow on one occasion, were primarily named Ronnie and Caspar, just like Reagan and Weinberger, at a time when few people, much less children, knew that those men would be in charge 7 years later. For this good reason, I examined Donalds in the question of signification. Donald Finnegan (DF) claimed he was only playing when he made terroristic gestures at me, but he was the biggest kid in the class. Donald Gruber, well, that’s how serious it is, because Hitler went by Schlickgruber.