PSYCH ABDUCTIONS ORGANIZED BY THE NEW YORK POLICE DEPARTMENT ARE KNOWN AS "KA BE" BY THEM.

Reasons for the next abduction to occur today, by a Lega nazi pig farm clone inserted in Caroline Kennedy's police department in the 60's and Lexington Avenue (67,68 or thereabouts) and the coincidence at 111, involving Sargeant Granelle, and Daniels, and some others whose namelessness does not irritate their owners:

1) If I water my lawn, I show too much responsibility as a home owner;

2) Don't, whatever you do, report any terroristic activity if you witness it; Same goes for crime; since, at the say of a police officer himself, who's Ellen Hind's slave because Hispanic, if the crime occurs in your neighborhood, the police willed it and it's secret services, which is paranoid and false; the man is so far gone that if I decrit a nazi terrorist organizing method, someone told me;

3) I bought a security lock for my door, that keeps me safe from night break ins, no sign of forced entry: that puts them in a crisis;

4) Neighbors will say I'm acting erratically to sustain not so uniformed intervention, and what neighbors: on 50th: 212-03; 211-16; the Nancy hut, the Mittler dungeon (the latter was just broadcast from a Nazi camp in Northern Pennsylvania where he keeps the stuffed remains of my mother's operation, not through her doing, but  the hospitals' I guess. All this covered by the 111 Precinct), the hut at the SW corner from location, and the house behind it; children who are ha ha ha in good with the klan at 213-03; 36 here who is a postal box continuation of the second or third house on 213, a white metal free standing  monstrosity in a topiary garden the size of a nickel, and an herb jar like the one I had to coordinate activities with my estranged family,through a number one zoom  the Rossi-Sage whose contacts are not only excusively confederate, but disease spreading.  This venue, usually in swaying maxipad polyesther skirt lenghts, announced yesterday through Sandra Marzella, that my house is her investment as well, this being news to me, who am, along with my mother, the homeowner, and what a big , big investment the houses are, big enough to lose your freedom for it seems;

5) A cover up for the Queen of England and Kate, who organized a pubic packing of US citizens expedition on the cover of a gossip magazine on sale at supermarkets some months ago by photo (since they can't read, and shout like crazy if you come near a newspaper. This in New York City?): The Tapiero, inheritors of the kingdom (and don't you forget it! Tapiero says, contacting Frank Marzella, both too thick to recognize irony. The latter would be my at first abduction, then decisional dependency based on his unschooled opinion, and his expertise with the Tapiero, who I've only known as tenants, not inserteds from people like him.) . Here it is: you go to sleep, expecting no interference, since you do lock the door (you not meaning me, an impossibility for Tapiero and the critical pig mass detective stuck in glitzy uptown) and awake to a padded chin, fewer pubic hair, a tourist sack concealing your genitals dangling from your body, where they will suture a dead penis so that the Royal British house can suck on it when you get abducted to their brothel, this to insure sterilization of my race (I'm a 53 year old women, not married, I'm fuctioning as a symbol for the vilyfication of Italians willy nilly) . You should see the state of my upper hips: the Tapiero have even been shifting my bikinis through Hines and Fruit of the Loom by lengthening the back, so that, if pulled up, that area resembles the straight line of a male's body. This  with my body shape, is a magical feat of wizardry, since I could not possibly accumulate fat in those areas, my bone structure being completely different from that, but they must have ordered a rush on briefs. This in a Middle class neighborhood, in which the Tapiero thought they'd branch out with street prostitutes on Francis Lewis, and a John call for me at my ATM in a residential family zone, since, how is it possible I could resist the call of a Darth Vader vacuum cleaner plastic sports car model in the same area and a horde of Nissan with nazi cerebratory numerical combinations occurring at arcane variants everywhere I go, on the bus, at the newstand, watering the lawn, outside stalking, inside harassed by the Tapiero who slam a wall if I cough, or sneeze galaxies away from them, at the supermraket, on the subway, outside the subway, shopping, not shopping, followed by scrums there to hit me over the head accumulating on my side of the sidewalk, sinking mine (I counted three hundred in a twenty minute period, during working hours, just for using public transportation, a big no no for the trance crowd organized through the police. I just did not go on my merry way, stood on the sidewalk and observed the crowd flood by). You stop at a street light, they accumulate behind you, and when I write accumulation I mean accumulation. You walk, they shout annoyingly behind you, you walk somewhere, they slow down in front of you,  then they dance around you, then they organize in similarly numbered interpreters coming at you in formation in intermittent packs; then a van pulls up, then a mini bus; then a tractor trailer, then an SUV, just in case the moment is propitious enough. Then they look like a pencil placed horizontally on the side walk, then they leave a gap for you to walk into, between two people, then they arrange another formation with a couple on the side, a gap, and one on the other, supposedly not knowing one another, and so on, this while you 're running errands, such as going to the drug store to buy shopping bags where you get an excuse for a homebody following you around tilting their head and threatening you for an affair with Bruce Springsteen, since, in the entire world, she was the chosen Cinderella to his foot fetish, and for the motivation of Bruce colonizing neighbors for their curio value  (Mittler is organizing by following the writing of this post through the hacker who rearranges the spelling, and with a thank you for same, thinking I will be so shocked or think it my fingers I won't say). after all, this is the asphalt jungle because lions eat lions as well, but PBS keeps it under wraps so that only the aristocracy can enjoy it, after all, it's an exclusive world. If you think about it, look at how every single member of the Mc Neil newsteam looks alike: they all look like Patton the Confederate as a Lancaster because they got stuck in New York City and made the best of it, but still weep about it. Wei Jin Chang uses the same hacker, on my time and blog, as if this were acceptable, and who cares about me after all, and what a name, since she's Hirohito and Chamberlain's wife spew, who also poses as korean at carlton stationary, and plants receipts for the sale of newspapers in your apartment, since buying  an Italian one criminalizes you immediately to Mott and his crew.

6) Should they steal your mail, not deliver any information about the elections, any mail from the election board, should they break in your certified mail and insert a Deer Pappy letter instead, don't fret: they'll arrest you at the police department if you complain: who are you after all, but a human fat model for the Queen of England, who, being a celestial body, takes the progression from day to night and your sleep as a consent for her to arrange even the skinning of your gums, and so be it. After all, she is God. In the 21st century, she, a human being who fats and discriminates is God. And what a God that is! A curved hip body evolved into male hips and a tourist money Ken doll sack: now that's a miracle, no dubt about it. that's what I get for being a citizen of the United States "e il modo ancor m'e caro" "and the way is still to cannibalize you", this for sour grapes, Independence Day still miffs her, while I think, no wonder they got rid of George the Third. Who needs the extra padding? the fact that I've been eating and consuming next to nothingfor MONTHS not being clear enough to them. you should see this murder contract on me, which will be sustained as a false suicide, because like nut job Elizabeth, my demise is inevitable. I stop, and Anastasio starts, but I'm not here to move in and out, in and out of my blog for them.