People responsible for harm to me:

George Bush mispelled the frst word, then George Bush, meaning he's for an Austro Hungarian -Nazi takeover of our country. He's in contact with Franceschini at NYU thorugh 29, same school Jonathan Buchsbaum graduated from, and he was connected to my being introduced to Paul Polivko, the attempted murderer. My mother plans to poison me through her contacts at Waldbuams at Crocheron Avenue, where she saw fit to abuse me in public after she had gone to the back door entrance and arranged Tara to support her and frighten me in a homologous community. 29 will also see it fit by claiming I'm the one leaving the bathroom window open facing them, a window which stars the toilet as a main character and scares small children into pederasty, not their near and dear. That child already is brainwashed enough to think of herself as the superior of me as a lower race, as they chimed their abuse from their driveway when all hell broke loose and shouting was considered an effective way to white flight. Francis Martell also is a Granelle contact. The latter feels big because her compulsion is to diminish the ranks of Italians, and she stands to inherit from me, for that matter so does Marta Tapiero for her, whose court date is next week, so life is short when one rents to a clit snipper offer, who my mother had the genius to rent to and make my life miserable with for all this time, and who not only denies their abuse, but contributes to have them steal rolls of photos I documented their damage to our property and my personal goods with. She's 80 years old, and needs to have me killed. I also eroticize Alessandra Mussolini who claims I'm her namesake, or some other Queens College namesake, as a child, for Granelle, who plans on another Playmen's photoshoot. Now Granelle wanted me to change my name to Alessandra, she's investigating she says. I'll hold the department responsible if this is so, and I'll look into it. Then I'm a terrorist. "If you didn't change your name because of me, why did you?" This amplified through Saint Nicholas at 4;31AM. Here are the facts: our property are ours, nobody even vaguely related are inheriting nothing; tenants are not inheriting anything (the Bayside version of a preacher had me stalked and is a multiple with TD night break ins contacts, and is a collaborationist with the would be Chinese Hirohito freak at Chase on 196th. He claims to be Korean and had me followed by his trash on the bus as well. His contact is Billy Graham. The property WILL NOT BE INHERITED BY ANYONE. theTapiero will soon be gone, I'll care for the apartments, they will be rented with proper ID and credit checks, my mother opposes that, after this debacle, I'll report her to the police and mental health workers for seeing me as someone who wants to take from her, and not better property and rental revenue with people who do not child rape and fuck dead bodies. And of course patti Smith thinks she can get one better over me as a Corcoran apartment inhabitant murdering whore, blockbusting here through a series of bad rentals. I'll throw them out faster than the speed of light, and, on top of that, sue them, and their backers for harm to self and subversion against the United States. Pull that and let's just see. I have time to share Saint Nicholas confidences now, as she tells me it's a fucking compulsion of hers. The minute I hear a fucking peep I make a report. They think they're cozying uo like Cortez? Then they fucking do. And let's just see how many Jewish eyes they can gauge out here now that I'm not moving and I'm not a criminal at all. Time to sell, you continue to harass me? I'll sue you for everything you own, since you can't fucking shut up, and think it a matter of nothing to threaten me with acid in my eyes. I mean, come the fucking on. Who the HELL ever heard anything like that, ANYWHERE.Spooky wooky neighborhood turning on you, by wanting you to masturbate to them punitively to falsely suicide you. This being New York, good fucking luck. How is this even an enclave you can operate from? I can't wait until they retire you, really. Guess what. The bathroom window plot was Granelle's. So was the commingling of urine, mine and my mother's for her. That means something. She just started communicating with the Franceschini relative at 29, still adhesive 27, no fine in sight. They're trying to sell the house and it's misaddressed? And Granelle backs this? A Police officer? And I've been reporting it for months? And it's not in a rural region of the United States, on a hillock, built on a bull's bullock, left of center, fall back, step forward with brio? It's in Queens? By two major arteries, and still quietly residential, with no call for foot traffic? Now that's really thinking.