I was listening to an audio book from the Murder She Wrote series or whatever. Wow, I forgot all about Nazi secret society poetry reading type clubs. I guess Angela Landsbury softened it up for you. But in the audio book, which isn't Ms. Landsbury's voice, the story is about a fat-cat criminal that is somehow selecting his own jury. There is some issue about an inheritance and maybe a will but I remember the voice saying something like, "Well they will share it like the author originally intended." Get out of here. What about my great grandfather, Lester? And his only surviving son out of 6 babies that got shot in the face. What about his kids that all had infant surgery around the neck area? Why did you kill my sister? She didn't have different parents and she looked just like me, idiot.
Why the hell is 69 a nazi number?
Why would you use another person's compassion against themselves? You are complete pure scum, and I still don't know who you are. Lies, lies, everywhere lies. Oh yeah, and trash junkies hidden below them. Pure fuckin hate. What would I even tell the real police? I know they exist, but not from here. I have no proof of anything and if i have to fuckin explain how fuckin nasty you trash fuckers are again, I would need me and my family transported away from here, first. And, an immediate stop of the electrical brain cooking.
They are getting wise to you trash daddy scumbag. Is that the same person as AIDS monkey trash? There is and never was any kind of personal or public agreement. Not sure why I asked to try again. I would have never have found out what exactly I was to do whether I asked or not. FUCKU TRASH AND YOUR TELESCOPE. FUCKU.
I'm really not such a dirty pathetic person nor am I acting for a camera that could only be spying beyond violation of personal everything. Fuckin trash.
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