NAZI FASCIST EVERSIVE ACTIVITY AT THE FRANCIS LEWIS WALDBAUMS NORTH OF NORTHERN BOULEVARD. After helping my mother with the garden all morning long at one of our houses and receiving nothing but abuse since I frustrate her as a non fascist (the Tapiero are spying this, still thinking I'll do their will by sorcery) I go buy some food, and line under the register number 5 border, rung by none other than a Mountbatten by product, with  a  licence plate listed, in black marker, TARRA (my house, but in their spacial non temporal dimesion of destruction of Midwestern towns, since they are American, while confederates here are just passing through. There was a woman aligned with food preceding me, and, at the opportune moment, I peel a pinch on my arm, the first ever experienced, and' I'm 53. I turn and see my mother shouting at me, saying I needed to give her the keys of the car, to which I said I was there buying food (which was a no no ) and why should I give her the (house-abduction planned) keys right at that moment. The woman in front of me stepped further up, having a woman in front of my mother ) claim the purchases were hers, I said move up, then another parked a backward (my daughter of my father, an Italian American, but sent to nazi hell) on my right foot tendin. For that matter, as I was trimming a beautiful bush we have on the property, my mother placed a small saw by my right foot for trimming the burnt leaves away, not butchering the bush, because it will uproot the garage, for her. The garden is still a mess, and needs further work. The tenant is advertising a computer camera angled to my bricks left front window, top with a piece of cartboard there for no reason at all but to cheapen property values and Mary Mittler has finally given up the ghost by parking a flat licence plate Washington D.C. car in her Tudor castle driveway reading Taxation with no representation, for which I am grateful, because I'll be happy to see her and her own lethal injected some day. People at the cash register expected me to cry, and not use shocking foul language, I said, this is a stage set, you harm me and I have no right to remonstrate, and that they thought I would not complain? It was rumored that Frank Marzella, an estranged aquaintance of mine was holed up in 211-16, as a Crown slave worker (they lock their lurers behind doors in at Chase branches, especially in Flushing) and there to call Daniels to have me abducted. A team of dancing soccer players also expected me to endure their abuse as they strangled the basketball pole on the house South West of my property, on 211-03 50th Avenue, in Bayside, a basketball basket that was used exclusively by those living at 211-02, who disappeared as a family without a trace.