NEWS OF THE LATEST MOMENT:
Jeremy Marzella's wife, is not only chanting with nazi fascist klan types, but is a Trent Lott aficionado, and along with his daughter are, you guessed it, trying to take our property away.Tapiero, who spies even on times of bathroom consulting and has his trash kick the toilet, knows by hacking the content of my thought, and just shot a shot (and imagines himself looking at me, me covering his back to keep the woman away from my property) . So the woman starts a riot at spying my every move through the local amplification, courtesy this time of Trent Lott, Tapiero figures he'll sacrifice and invovle himself with me to take my property (they get close I'll shoot them in the face when I get a gun permit, or call an ambulance, or the police depending on the approach). Jeremy Marzella's daughter from a rpior marriage contacts the League of Women Voters to steal my house, and they, when requesting the address to determine who the representatives are for this district, in particular the September 13 primaries, show only who owns the property, what acreage it covers and personal information that has nothing to do with them. On NYC.gov, no list is available although the windows are there. You access you get gibberish (Jeremy Marzella's wife, arranged for him by his father Frank Marzella, a ruptured ass KKK licker started saying that thanks to Trent Lott she can hack into this post and alter the spelling. i don't even know this ass packing pig sucking whore's name. Or maybe it's horses, since she's in Connecticut. She must miss the scent of the dung on the straw and resent the clothes she has to wear for work, and makes my life hers because she couldn't marry all Italians and carry them as her prize capture down South) and a bold Korean, Western European, as languages of choice. Nothing but code, no listing of candidates at all. No news either covering the election (I didn't even know or was sent information on state elections, or civil court, or assembly, for that matter ever. I have never in my life received that information by mail, and I'm 53. The election site is in a different place than last year. No candidates in New York City listed other than a continuuum of Meng, who's been chasing me around town telling me to be her whore, or a Kim Italian cigarette who doubles as a finger cut Hirohito slave at Chase's 196th and Northern, if they're connected. The others are just nonexistent. The Board of Elections site does the same thing, no information, just a color combination telling you that hey, only camouflaged confederates here in the north stand to elect anybody, and in a nonsensical numerical listing of numbers to play lotto with, meaning something not exactly pretty but deadly for us, because we own houses. So, we don't vote, we don't know who to vote for, from those who should inform us the most. The newspapers either don't mention the election, or mention their candidate, not all. "cazzi ebrei e preti" chimes Jeremy Marzella's wife, from the amplification, not understanding that if she comes near  me I now have perfect justification for shooting her in the face. She arranges night break ins, and murders they claim are false suicides. The ones that scream most are the worst betrayers of their own self interest: nothing like a Hispanic to shout the loudest and be the more violent for her racial enemies turned master of her. She likes the approval she gets for aiming at my appendix and the pelvis area they attach a decomposing penis to, to suck it after altering my gender to symbolize my sterilization. The whore at Center Street, Small Claims Court likes the approval. For her I need to understand that there is no other way, this is the way of the world, and I must just accept it. Then she laughs because she's more superior than me, because she's Hispanic a rarer race to conquest and dominate the world because "we're mainly indian good for nothings" and she goes on, I don't have the time and I don't care, because it's also a tale I need to interrupt, because at the end of it someone innocent gets hurt.