people not to trust your investment  portfolio with or, gentrification hits Bayside, Queens and it tries to look Puertorican also.

a. Lizzie Two, the sequel to Jew and Catholic bashing to Lizzie One, a dutiful daughter of Henry the Eight I am I am, now busily filling New York late .800s immigration wave neighborhoods, Irish, Italian, etc. with spy centers like the cult of Marzella from Bristol to Patterson now here, since the Jitney to the Hamptons started stopping in the neighborhood here to blame non.collaborationist catholics as pedophiles to seize their houses. Should that child reassignment project fail, there.s always loss of work, a false drug charge or a freshly painted house or mowed lawn to spur any self.delusional patrol officer into an arrest or an abduction to a psych hospital where you will be deemed to dangerous to pay your mortgage or bills for up to a year.s time. All this aided and abetted by local rapists of immigrant descent like the Greeks of Saint Nick.s who as past slavists, believe Prince Phillip is seizing England through a badly permed tint of a flock of sheep by playing Big Ben bell tunes from a church that necessarily had to readjust its WWII Nazi pillbox proportions to a higher dome, but still leaving the circle and crusade cross there in remembrance of someone else.s true faith, forgetting that not all Greeks or Greek towns were slavist and that sympathy with a non.relative after the taint of independence bears either attic or cellar futures even though now they wax poetic at how they know Anemona Horticullis and you don.t and boy will they show you what happens if you don.t respet' them;

b. How an eye color or, say, a secondary sex characteristic could ban your parents dead out of their house in the middle of a Huguenot night by the French descent of the Hapsburg and Richard the III as Marie De Medici of yore, and Robert Anastasia a little less of yore, in 1789 Marie Antoinette, and you kidnapped to unimaginable abuse because you looked like Michelangelo.s David King of the Jews to a new Jean Luis David  or your eyes were a lyrical celebration of unity in olive green gold, or a never seen gray blue, from the good folk at synagogues like Beth Shalom, now Beth Sholom, like Fran Dreshner.s, or the Fresh Meadow.s cat clock with conjunctivitis because all black cats are evil devils and so are you and so is Israel, because it.s ungodly and non.aristocratic and a smattering too egalitarian. To prove you are so evil they abuse you until you.re dead and transfer life affirming sexual impulses to acts of cannibalism you are forced to entertain by people who not only need to prove you.re the devil, but that need to force you to prove you are the devil yourself, if not they not only kill you but torture you until you do;

catch of today, since I have much to do, and must be brief, necessarily, but will fill in asap:

196.37 45th avenue, Auburndale, Flushing area, Queens, NYC

now a Bratton contact, and Italian and Jew hating Escobar in various phases of facial rearrangements, all pedophile, living in a cellar, plan on doing me in on an ambulance run, until "we own your house!" as stated by incorrectly misnumbered 196.29/27 a Nipponized Korean ped house where trash wishing to be Spencer Buckingham because then they can stalk Jewish schoolbuses in peace with their utilitarian approximation to a sports car by Toyota in red like Peter Mittler, from 48.63 211th Street Bayside Hills, NYC still Queens and the second floor tenant who in the past two days has:

shut off my sprinkler since my garden is growing beautifully. I turned it back on as soon as they drove off;

squatted on the garbage cans, saving a week.s and more trash worth, usually smelly and wet heavy, in the apartment to dump it in the cans the day after trash pick.up;

told me to water their vegetable garden;

left the front door open, the lights to the entry on all night long;

threw out a red bag full of dirty Coors cans, with a wet paper towel at the bottom, in the trash along with two other bags, since the last mass evacuation from bug build.up one or two days past, leaving the recycling and the seizing scent optional to me;

plan on allowing access to my house to the Cult of Frank and its associates, to declare my lodgings theirs to passing cars and casual glances, when they are banned from the premises unless my mother tells me different.

I just went on my merry way, pruning my little persimmon tree, born from fallen fruit, so its leaves would grow strong, and rid the roses, and still am, of a persistent mold so much so new leaves and buds are my little malicious pile up, for them.