Mac Crary <james.m.crary@gmail.com>
10:34 AM (3 minutes ago)
to john, Charity, Greta, Kimberly, susanfrancis
Police always hated Jimmy’s niche. It was a form of uncalibrated notch baby, someone who slipped between the cracks of precinct typos. It became a common sympathy, laughably easy to explain on the street, so the moguls of blockbusters had it right in sounding in with special effects.
Judge Pechman, always in a game way, acknowledged my attempt to certify that I had issued prior warning of Covid-19. She did it with the rejection and shrug of John Shulman "I reject this with a smile", you know better me, old man. The Bar Association had already intoned, there wasn’t going to be representation because of the felon’s prominence, you know those old boys and the lengths they go to, they are famous therefore untouchable and what is more wanting to reach them is a threat, hereby classified mentally ill.
Found out after twelve years of staring into space that the ringleader of the mental health facility where ADWAS placed me, a facility that chemically castrated me, where I was when my deaf coach mysteriously dropped dead for trying to help me move, refused to let me attend college (I eventually escaped, made Honors and graduated) and who poisoned me in the mouth right before covid, is a guy who was in school back East with the man who married my former fiance. Never bothered to tell me all those years he was glowering at me and giving my efforts a bad review. That's not even the half of it.
Peers had wrecked me in Pittsburgh. The manner of it always seemed to me an attack on our vital national premises which is why I was so relieved to find Herbert Agar’s polemic, A Time for Greatness. This book clarified for me what my elders were capable of when living up to themselves.
I had been raised not to have a mind of my own. After we moved, when I was 14, my mother and I had the biggest meltdown ever, and anyone who has seen her meltdown would shudder to learn that my temper tantrum won. We were parked a little ways down from Ratner’s and I wanted From Genesis to Revelation at the record store. I would listen over and over for days, “I have a mind of my own.” It was hope to me, the dawn of my life after …
Well, I was tortured, kidnapped and gassed in the first of three holocaust simulation experiments that Pittsburgh and Seattle union monsters conspired from the Christian Right at the V.A. to subject a child to as a gimmick about the rhetoric of abortion from Trump’s joke book.
Jews of course drive the cartel, using their real estate and Wattenmaker’s magic refrigerator at Neurobehavioral. Can you omoja you were derf? Or better yet that you weren’t, everyone else talked in sign language. Your culture was bad and had to be schooled. Derf, again, they started a whisper campaign, and the laughter was a riot of sound you can’t hear because you are stupid and ignoring them.
John Shulman used to laugh at me as a Candide character so I read it and realized he was in on what was going on with the royal treatment. Andrew Cho is, too, their idea was a laugh on my dad, who was tracked by the parochial intelligence inside jest, the liberal’s aversion to looking back on their litters. Cho mafia’d it right up to the wild and clever Ono idea that declared it was dangerous if you sat indoors, and that you must take responsibility for the squaws betrayed in porno. How Sinfield laughed.
Pittsburgh called it Guerilla Theater at the YIKC.
Just as China Girl, Platoon and The Mechanic end with a magician’s ball of fire, the procedure led to announcement of higher commandos. When they killed Saoirse Kennedy, I got a bawling letter from her mum. Even the Pechypoos at Federal Tacoma 1717 must remember the report that came down with Covid, because I sent them her picture as I ran in my first mask to the mailbox, terrified because I was sick, arm extended in warning at a bag lady passerby, running like a hell maddened Shadoxfax to the United States of America Postal Service Mailbox and the messages were delivered with the murder of two more of their family.
Let’s not be sympathetic was the game plan in Pittsburgh. The Military launched a LOUD MORONIC CHALLENGE from Studio Theater at CMU called RADIO KKK while Ming Na Wen's chorus line laughed THAT DOESN’T MEAN hahahaha and YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE WHO ISN’T LAUGHING.
But they are the Politically Correct, that’s worth double spot of higherness.
I got set up by a militia at Pitt. The lady came onto me real dare ya like, she being a teacher there, and I said let's make a date, she said that night her roommate wasn't home. Next day she said it was arranged to get him into the zuklear program. I yowled, HIM???? I traced it, too. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kZLOYqGyKn8&t=13s
She was from India. The gang that set it up one of them is a speechwriter for Trump, another John Shulman, just made the cover Smithsonian being busted in an 8 million dollar museum heist. Police say it doesn't matter, they still own the movie: http://texasschoolbook.weebly.com