CONSTANTINE DELI 205-10 48TH AVENUE, 718.225.6918 also have their finger in the pie and it reeks. Another Granelle venture in the desert, and probably connected to Paul Polivko and the Anastasio since the man resembles Valentin, an uncle of Polivko, if that is his real name, since he has a Mountbatten skull, and, Saint Valentine's day falling one day after the 13th, bad luck for Italians, his being the continuation to my home. I walk in, and ask the man how long he had been there, and he says 1982, which is the year I started Queens College, where I met Paul Polivko. I think that I've never seen the deli there before, and there's a chance they'll set old New York license plates after me, which have been endemic lately, on the most improbable vehicles, buses, and plastic fantastic yellow and black sports cars driven by a middle aged flower shop  cashieer. I walk in and the middle weight pasty boy is wearing a we're ready and willing for arson Fire Department Squad 288 car cap (the mayor who reads my blog and dons false cop uniforms at times or has family members resembling him closely that do, Family, is ready to shut down all firehouses so, in case of a blaze we can use a bucket and some spit.) and gives me a "ferner" look. He says something to the owner about mentioning something about me, the owner says okay, you say that, and I found a delegation of them at the bus stop, today, after I had been warned by the ethnic fantastic would be Korean 111 Precinct cop one ritz telling me as I buy the paper, not to, if not something bad will happen. They were also a Patton New York Presbyterian collusion, itching to send me packing to a menatl hospital, because the advantages are great. The team was as follows: a brown haired elder in a sleazy business suit,another version of pasty boy,  a woman in the middle, a Mountbatten, in bad, tawdry wear and a prostitute in brown hair and a Hitler part, with a tan, heading north for what reason at about 1:00PM today?