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torturedfacepillow -> "No-No Boy" - John Okada (3/31/2024 9:48:39 AM)
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Junior year of highschool, in the United States, is the most important year of your life.
Your disposition as an individual, is determined, for the rest of your life, your career.
I was Class of 2003, with televisions from the EMC Corporation, drilled into the walls of our classrooms.
We all saw 9/11/01, live on international television.
We'd raped a gook, on television, before us.
We were war criminals, on a popped cherry.
All of the rum, cigarettes, and grass, disappeared, and while we still had our drug problems, our Burden in Our Hand, we were soldiers.
I got the book "No-No Boy", by John Okada, about a Japanese-American in an internment camp, a year after I qualified as a CIA prosecutor's agent.
I'd taken a potent chemical cocktail, later classified in several stages of variance as an Army drug to resist print obedience, Lutherans, out of North Korea; suspected communists, actually Israel.
I was assigned NSA Warden's Agent.
Halfway Houses, AA meetings, NA groups, Scientology warehousing, industrial jobs, school catered classrooms, dormitories, low income housing, Hell's Angels meets, Freemason print groups, online publicists, low technology Boston and Metrowest parties, Essex County Russian Putinist meetings, Essex County deputy hunts of heroin dealers out of Amsterdam, psychiatric ward prisoners.
Each time, making a choice.
Is this a victim of the Jews, then marked Israeli, a Swedish Lutheran, and secretly converted to Nazi, a Depression Era Jew, or a Jewish LGBTQ, a State Police enemy of the Fraternal Order of the Police, moved to domestic soil, as an internment victim, and a victim I'd call it, a prison inmate in their own profession.
I was given MoveOn PoliSci training, to strip Karl Marx from me while retaining it in recorded number, CIA Rom training, to appear MI-6 in my tortured mind, even CIA Rom or ExSec compliant, hearing their screams and false premonitions of handshakes on Confederate Southern Army logic, before Appomatox, and a sheet of Chloroxipin from my campus police chief, a female soldier recruited for her occasional purchase of comics and first name, by pedophiles seeking a link between comics and life, for lawsuits of social form of passage; the sales of more compliant media fictionals, the British-Jewry.
NSA Warden's Agent, through place to place.
And in each, not a care of my claimed form, a freelance writer or MUSHer or MUD's man or publisher, instead moving to incarcerate anti-war activists, the Ba'athist Rabbinical Chinese, or the Irish Protestant prostitution dons of Afghanistan, the Taliban, the gay rights movement.
And now I stand before you, abused by Hebrew Israelis, over a tip, that I had once offered generous, pared down to prove the rule on television, abused for gaining rights for the common American; Hebrew speaking immigrants, now impatriated through Poland, the forebearers of the Holocaust, as having sold and bought labor, a new Berlin Wall.
Perhaps your child stole a toy, West Germany.
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