TAPIERO CONNECTED TO GHANA THEME COFFIN NAZI CONCENTRACTION CAMP.

COVERING FOR THEM: SARGEANT GRANELLE AND HER TEAM AT THE 111 PRECINT,
THE MITTLERS AT 48-63 50TH AVENUE, BAYSIDE HILLS, NEW YORK, 11364, WORLD JEW CENTER AT 211-16 50TH AVENUE, BAYSIDE HILLS, CONDALISA RICE, GEORGE BUSH, HILLARY (HARA KIRI ALLIED SOLDIERS) CLINTON, AND THE REST.

For that matter, thinking the church on Francis Lewis could support the solid ass of street trash due to the overwheening presence of drug stores and drug connections non existent in the area, Hilary (aka Hillary) Clinton, announced, earlier, to her fans, that she, Secretary of State, did support as a conituuum of her face, Rommle in Northern Africa, and so is her coeval trash the Lega in Italy, who skirmishes with Southern Italians for now, because it's fun.

The buses were miraculously on time today, after I clocked the first I boarded. After being urged by youth clap trap at saint Nicholas to read People magazine (I'm a professor) and not the newspaper, I exit my house and a New York Presbyterian Patton the confederate slave juts out from his Mercedes, an MD 79896, and arranges with a 36 contact, appearing out of nowhere at 12:22PM (not an office area, and why wasn't she at home fixing lunch, like a goody good good house fraulein, in a green top and black slacks?) to monitor the goings on between my mother and me, so they can use an implausible excuse to call an ambulance. Again: I have no contact with these slaves on the avenue, refuse to have anything to do with slaves, and mind my business unless other's crosses my way. The doctor submerged to decompose my body in somebody's mouth at the Lenox Hill opening up the block, since they use their zones to signal what they want to do to you, mostly have you a victim of the first available erotoanthropofagistic fool. topography is a map to their decomposition zones, so they use nearby streets, and what have you, to their area. New York Presbyterian is in the same area as Lenox Hill, for one.

On my way to buy the paper, there was a reinvention of the one car, two license plate ideals from yesterday, u-turning, in the Eastward ho on Northern Boulevard of two gray Mercedeses, traveling at the same light speed, paralleling one another, and on a bus ride, the 12 on my way back, with two of Condalisa Rice's Bowery Boy slave conglomerate picaninninies, and Morton Williams gymnast rejects, all excessively short for their own age. Must not have been the sigarettes. This anticipated by a lookout at the stop on my way to at  12:42PM, 12 Bus at Francis Lewis Boulevard and Northern  and cloned on my way back, on another 12, at about 1:04PM, at about Francis lewis and Northern again, still 12, both minors without a traveling shool accompanying them. Or for that matter, a truant officer. A disabled Anastasio team boarded the bus trying to evaluate whether my face could be readjusted into that of a Mongol princess, then deciding for Condalisa Rice as well, that it was better to chop me up in a "skid row factory". The area of ascent to the bus was not a group pick up one for disabled, but one close to a Nazi ambulatory service, in which an Anastasio works, also a Long island Jewish Psych Hospital contact. They get to eat you after a set number of abductions to said. They also think you're stupid for not questioning why Long Island Jewish Psych admissions doctors ask you when yo had your last period.

NAZI TERRORIST ACTIVITY ARRANGED BY BLAMING PEOPLE WHO READ NEWSPAPERS AS DASTARDLY EVIL, AND ACCOMPLISHING THE MISSION TO CLARIFY THE EARTH, BY: MARILLA PALMER, PETER MITTLER, SARGEANT GRANELLE, AND THE TAPIERO. As follows.

I get off the bus, and, for the nth time, am preceded by the usual asshole. I let him trail ahead, and see that, unlike the others, who went straight to Granelle for three days, this one enters the stationary store, SAI, at 211-12 Northern Boulevard, Bayside, Queens, New York. I run after him to see what connections he makes, and, lo and behold, the Ghana Theme Concentration Camp freak, resembling Wilson Tapiero, presents the cashieers, including the whore who continues to badger me and stalk me to define my worthiness for her racial exterminationist brothel, with this information: the Tapiero, Mittler and Palmer plan terrorist attacks through what I read and consult. Then asks for cover to the cashieers, meaning, will they say that I, by myself, with no ties even to potash producers, a "whore", not a professor, am responsible for their terrorist attacks? The cashieers wonder about my blog's range, and the Tapiero clone says that no one reads it but them. No answer is given immediately, but there is a clone of the convenience store prostitute at the bus stop headed back my (I need to write that) home. Again, a convenience store being an impeccable choice of locations, but then, this is America, even buying a quart of milk on the run is a symbol that can be hammered into an analogy at the bat of a hat. After all, why are you buying a quart of milk in the first place?

THE PATRIZIA AND FABIOLA SAMMARTINO CHRONICLES.

The bus ride back home, also, and finally, uncovers Patrizia and Fabiola Sammartino, childhood friends of mine, who either hid who they were, or blossomed into filth at a later age. they were the daughters of a man who claimed he worked for the US Embassy in Napoli, and who ruined his life, supposedly for an affair, leaving his job, and joining the Florida Post office on his wife's urgings, to get away from the wanton temptress. Then back to Rome, where he was a night porter in a hotel, no thanks to his batty wife, and he, stupid enough not to throw them all to hell, and keep his post. All I know is that, while I was studying, Fabiola went to Hollywood, Patrizia screwed a whole series of idiots for love and money, went to Milano after being lured by an idiot she thought she was luring herself, became a prostitute, and a fascist one to boot, then returned to Miami Beach (after a stint in Houston with a husband) to become, according to her, the non sexual lover of a married real estate involved man, who allowed her to run his properties, and gave his sister and her two apartments to live in. On top of all that, she just though these presenting these matters to me would be met with no amazement, or question, and, after some listening, I thought I 'd give up the ghost. She arranged for a whole slew of would be liberals to befriend me on Facebook; I explored the situation, and when I saw that she had posted on one of their pages, I thought, heck, how strange. then more stalking on the street, but nothing well defined. FINALLY, today! A worn Japanese representing the false suicide prosthetics Santanche' and Patton the Conservative party, sat on Bus 12, 6848 heading West. She also resembled 27 here, wore a beige cotton blend raincoat, up to her thigh, cyclamen jeans, tight, cowboy boots with studs on the leg, with a top 2' and 1/4 disappearing area, trapped on upper calf and inside knee, FINALLY , feighing a conversation with the air on her black cellphone, then saying FABIOLA, then FABIOLA DICE DICI ZOCCOLA meaning Fabiola says to say whore (rat also).

WOULD BE GAY BANTER AT PC RICHARD, FRANCIS LEWIS AND NORTHERN BOULEVARD, BY AN AGED GREEK PATTON TIN TIN, AND A GHAMA THEME TAPIERO CLONE YOUTH, ARRANGED BY NONE OTHER THAN CAP'N CHENILLE AKA SARGEANT GRANELLE, OF THE 111 PRECINCTS.

Theater courtesy of the closing call represented by the arriving time of the 76, Tin Tin from New Jersey U27-CE2 mentuons he wants a blowjob, thinking that's bucchino is a well distributed French bordello team by the Tapiero, younger version, after mentioning Lufthansa, for some reason. Then he tells the youth: "ha detto tua mamma he expects you", whatever that's supposed to mean to me. A Nelson Landscaping in white and green (connect the dumbs to the earlier show of affection from the MD at New York Presbyterian and the homebody in simil-fashion wrap in green and black, and you've got a Chia pet) whispers pawanoiwa as Wilson and Nelson collide like an asteroid into a dinosaur, since they have been repeating Admiral Nelson, Nelson, Nelson for awhile, to punish Neapolitans for ever wanting independence from the Bourbons in 1799. Wilson, thick as a crock, knows I'm writing this and ejects a mule's call signifying and how in revisionist Dantean at 5:25PM.
The young fellow mentions should I blow? I would like to! He badgers me so! Oh, what will I do? I don't know...maybe I should, maybe I shouldn't... On Francis Lewis, in front of an appliance store suppliying goods to a suburban community? So, as the hunt for gay supporters to abduct to nazi camps and force to masturbate after their penis is skinned for chuckles unwinds (The Queen has officially conquered my post with some equal nonsense that Condiloma Ritz assents to with her characteristic UhhHm HuMn!!!, so , here's a wild speculation, they're involved as well. This at 5:29PM, and what a coincidence that is, go West) I decide to put an end to it, and write the license plate of the youger, who thinks driving a white Camaro is sporty, which is New York, FWF 5412. I should...maybe I shouldn't...perhaps....I don't know.....I want to go on vacation with my girlfriend and I....(maybe he'll skin her too as a would be male, then retrun for more, rejuvenated).

More nonsense, still stalked on the bus back, on time, but loaded with a ped she wolf from Karlin the Russian Head of Lowenstein Low 3 but on the first floor, which maked you wonder not only where are Low 1 and 2, but what could possibly go on there. She was playing with a child resembling King George the III, who, of course knew my name, since we, of course are long time aquaintances, and since I have an undying interest in children, that's why I busy myself with this blog, and reading, and studying.

NOTABLE ENCOUNTERS:

1:44PM, driving down Francis Lewis, at Crocheron height, and arranged through payment by Peter Mittler, who has made me famous for his circuit of Nazi lesser race abusers, convinced that I could only be gratified of this great stalking honor since the KKK needs prey they can abuse coddled by Mittler's connections to 911, Precincts at large, Internal Affairs, Terrorist Hotlines, and Police Tops, only too eager to gratify his every wish, since hey, who cares about an Italian going food shopping if they can be thrown a coule of bucks and a blojob by a nazi confederate ped whore?

A BLONDE WOMAN, SOWING HER WILD OATS, BUT WITH INSURANCE. TARGETS ME FOR EROTOANTROPOFAGIA DRIVING BY IN A DEEP BLUE SUV, LICENSE PLATE NEW YORK AMG-2068.


Tapiero also covers for the event, saying they, and only they know about the blog, the rest of the world thinks I'm insane, ha ha ha and ha.

THE SLAVES HERE, THINKING THERE'S NO SLAVES ANYWHERE ELSE IN THE CITY, SAY THAT IF I'M HERE, I'M NEXT TO NOTHING 'FOR THEM'. Again, I've been living in the area for decades, and it's not like this at all. A friend of my mother, who knew her for decades, lived here as well, and there was never a problem in the slightest. I mean, it's not even vaguely related to slumming.

INFORMATION PRINTED ON THE RECEIPT FROM SAI GROCERY,  A STORE WITH A MISSION FROM TE AMO CIGARS FUNCTIONING AS THEIR ALTERNATE STORE NAME AS A SIGN OUTSIDE, ON 211-12 NORTHERN. THE WHORE ALSO CONNECTED THE :

Invoice number 46688;
CASHIER (sic) : 100101;
STATION :01, from the inside of the store, while one would assume that the register closer to the door would be the first. there are two.

36 did connect with leprosy expert whore at SAI to abuse children like she was abused. The people mentioned on this street are planning on destroying the area for a chance to be baronets to the Queens' ass, and will do anything, anything, including betray the States, to get out of the dreary doldrums of living here. "LEAVE IT TO THE CHINESE,I SAY" shouts that idiot at 36 (me-have ANYTHING to do with someone who says I say?) and she does not even know that the Chinese in this are are all camp imports and Japanese? And she's cacheing arms for a confederate takeover of Manhattan, or New York City, to kill the chinee? "EVEN 27 IF NEED BE, FOR SHE IS KOREAN!"
"I'm talking high up? I'm just talkin high up? Oh, I always dreamed of meeting the Queen, I always thought she had panache and finesse, and I always wanted to suckPrinceWilliam'scock there I said it, right in front of my husband's face who thinks I'm old and ugly and ..".(this is where my misanthropy takes an ugly turn). Korean?

THE NEW YORKER CAPERS, or, my magazine not delivered yet due to my (alas!) lower race status, who am I to be aware of the mondays goings on on monday?

2:39PM, a female teen bop, no regional accent, Carey answers the customer service line, a hello? hello? as soon as I lift the cell from the table I had abandoned iton as  not to listen to the prerecorded drivel.  She asks me for my name, mentions cloeths, then cloths, thinking another break in will bring me a poor quality cotton t-shirt, more pants adjusted for the quick concealment of a sutured decomposing cock should I get abducted waiting for a bus, then sutured with the dead appeandage, and they be in need of a concealed Levi's (THAT'S WHY!) zipper while they traipse me bling and prostheticked, from supermarket to supermarket for show and tell. She's already made contacts with the dumb asses in this area (why would New York Presbyterian, smack in the middle of Manhattan, lust after these houses, why?) and they are, as usual, ready, willing and able to break in (small cheap thrills, after all, what is a break in but a chance toget shot at by the owner of the house?) and substitute purchases until my "account is wiped out! There, I've had my say!" is the amplified Saint Nicholas, who thanks them for getting that "off her chest", as true New Yorker cannon fodder often will.