That’s my fraud-parent on the far right, 1/2-visible, in this photograph from Robin Moore’s 1969 account of the 1961-62 “French Connection” smuggling scam that the film was then loosely based on, but in real life the scam had wound up indirectly involving me as those suitcases on the table were ones I’d been manipulated into playing with as a 6-year old, like used for putting some lucky charm onto them sort of made-up system ritual, made-up make believe superstition ritual that I’d been tricked into muttering to myself that they “don’t make sense,” based on that the 3 didn’t fit into each other like Russian egg dolls, matryoshka, that I’d also just been shown to play with. (This file hasn’t been cleaned up yet, just threw in these pieces I only for trying to explain by.)
10/14/17, I got a new “clue” into this brain-serum as narcotic scam global-system, only that Allen Ginsberg’s former girlfriend, Ms. Elise Cowen, had (allegedly or maybe for real) jumped to suicide two days after the “French Connection” bust in the Bronx, her way across west in Washington Heights in upper Manhattan, I don’t really know what the connection is except that the glass-breaking theme is one of the connections, that Ms. Cowen had (allegedly, me finding it dfficult to believe and thinking it’s the similar modus operandi to the Kitty Genovese murder 2 years later, in 1964 in Queens, etc.,) jumped through a locked 7th floor window, a big window-smashing “ritual” I can figure that was based on that the French Connection’s Patsy (Pasquale) Fuca had been involved in or committed the just-earlier Cartier-window diamond robbery and the same at Tiffany’s had been in that time-period, so that Ms. Cowen’s window-smashing is near-surely connected to those 2 incidents and then those are part of this French Connection ritual to hide the brain-serum business behind the conspicuous white powder of the heroin (which is really about “disappearing” the normal-population men, hero-in, hallucino-system ritual.) Therefore I’m going to try to make this a section in itself because that Ginsberg guy is super-scary for little me all alone by myself with the whole end of the planet Earth’s being perpetrated off of all this parasitism onto and off of my “invisible-warfare” entrapped self. because, with this new Elise Cowen part that I just found out about I’m thinking that the 2 of them were disembodied-ovaries-system-descended from Aldous Huxley and either his wife Maria or any of the spawn that she’d come from, particularly the then-screenwriter named Anita Loos. Ms. Cowen’s middle name was Nada and Loos was called ‘Nita, is some “circumstantial evidence” that they were a set-up operative pair and whether she did or didn’t actually pass in that 2/27/62 suicide-leap I’m afraid that Ginsberg was after her ovaries either way and had had army/armies raised off of the two of their’s combination of their reproductive matter in the same pattern as with Aldous Huxley and his wife Maria and then their friend Ms. Loos, so that the “French Connection” ritual, for which little 6-year old me had been trick-used as a good luck charm for, over those suitcases used for the storage, had been at the bottom of, is more a part of the larger perpetration of the whole Armageddon/brain-eaters’ system than I’d been aware of because I don’t have any evidence that Ginsberg and/or Lenny Bruce were real-involved in that Bronx business till this just came up now. Ginsberg’s father was I think like Lenny Bruce’s stereotype, and his brother was a “space lawyer,” lawyer for the rules for whatever was found in space back then, but Ginsberg’s got armies of co-operatives so that this is a lousy position for me to be in, all those adults running around doing this world-takeover by eating brains of victims from their underground hide-aways, etc. Here’s the previous notes I’ve been trying to get thrown into this file for when I can better-organize all this but I have something else to try to get done today, just wanting to open this up as a real section onto itself, a still-open unsolved crime, with those suitcases I’d used to pay with likely still in a police storage somewhere:
These are all mixed up and I’ll sort through and try to organize them soon. On this French Connection Montreal notice Dubois’ appearance to Tony Fuca and the trick picture with the substitute.
I thought I had a photo of this page but I don’t and will have to fix this also later: bronx french connection
(the Green Beret little page disappeared from here.)
I couldn’t get to read the 2005 biography on Rene Dubos because I woke up with this “slug-pneumonia” illness a little bit relapsed. One of the main gimmicks on me over the years has been to infect me with this illness and then since I’m homeless I have to be out in public and the system claims I go around infecting everyone and thence they should be like destroyed, so to try to put how some of this “invisible warfare” goes, so I had to cancel my plan and try to get there the next opportunity but, again, I’m totally by myself with all this horror “Armageddon” real end of the real Earth and real Creation and, leaving eternity with this planet as flying smithereen-garbage for ever and ever, etc. We are the only biology that’d gotten started and it’s nothing except childhood Autism that’s caused everything to go awry, so I’m in this ridiculous situation all the time, and I feel bad when I say I’m going to do something and then couldn’t go do it. I picked back up where I’d left off yesterday and that was trying to double-check that my recollection was correct on Dubos’ living in Garrison, NY and I checked now this morning, thanks be to goodness that I’m even able to do that, because I’ve got all these horrors like closing in on me all the time, only because I’m kept totally isolated from actual contact with other people, where no one around me ever lets me speak or says anything to speak of. The Internet is supposed to be an infinite place like the Universe is infinite and likely is expandable, but life is stuck in this dead-end business. The system just never wants me to have or be anything and doesn’t want me on computers, so it’s like extremely lucky that they don’t, God help, have me locked into a hospital like after the car-hit for five months and such, is like what they’re, it’s, idea of referencing around me lately. Etc., sign off and back on to explain this. — This goes on and on with the interconnections just for this part of the whole Armageddon reality problem. Rene Dubos must have been born into this “Louis XIV”-paradigm, Louis’ beliefs that were born of their own horrifying captivity to these underground-sneak Autists and their “serotonin-abusing” partners, this mania that “the others,” the other people on Earth, must go, everyone’s infected and we must be started over, with the Autist-types and their partners in charge, the slaves like Louis having to get that job done for the Autists or face decapitation of themselves and anyone they know, knew. Rene seems to me to have been extremely good-looking circa 1930 and there’s some good chance that he’d come from the “Jesus” line of people’s genes, was born into that situation-set type of a life and the boy studied agronomy and met Dr. Waksman in Rome informally and then on the boat to over here and started working at Rutgers with him, so now I happen to be in this typical position of where little me thinks it required that I now learn all I can about Dr. Waksman and his papers actually happen to be right here just as I’m looking for someone whose papers I’d be able to read in order to get practice for what I really want to do which is to get myself up into Smith College, all girls, and hide for awhile, to read the papers, the daily letters to her sister Mary that co-worker of Rene Florence Sabin had written, so I’d thought that reading some papers here would be like a recommendation to Smith that they’d let me read Sabin’s papers because that’s extremely important to me where none of this other stuff really is, but it is part and parcel of how we’re really heading for TOTAL PLANET EXTINCTION merely because of the Autism nobody will let me write letters toward getting straightened out, etc. — I used to have a picture of Dr. Waksman in his lab like this one below except conspicuously surrounded by like a hundred cottom-stuff topped test tubes or decanters or such like they use, and it sort of idea of references the way test-tube babies are grown, is the idea I’ve got of him and so then that Rene had gotten into that and then Robin/Robert L. Moore the French Connection-title author was born, in Massachusetts, about a year after Rene had gotten to NJ, and I suspect that Rene’s genes had been used for all kinds of people walking around today and large-part run this whole “serotonin-way of living,” which the system insists is not drug “addiction,” always swearing to that “LSD” is not the same thing as debilitating drugs, they believe that eating brain makes them more intelligent than ordinary people, they’re all superior and the rest of the people, us “others” just take up space on their planet but it’s from the captivity that goes back centuries and centuries that, it seems from what I can gather of all this, that the Rene-type have got that belief-set from. In fact, the “Jesus-types” seem to be like “ingrates” toward the rest of us because they know what they’ve suffered and the rest of us don’t and are fed by them and can just go get lost. I’m trying to say that all that comes from pre-lunar-landing times thinking and that belief-set was all incorrect, though of course the slaves had just had to tell the Autists and their buddies anything to appease them, like, wait till we get you up into the sky where the stars are, then you’ll have all the big diamonds and the others will be begging at your door instead of the other way around like this, just wait, and 1969 came and went and this re-assessment of the global situation hasn’t been taken into consideration and, Kathy Foshay is just stuck with this pre-moon-landing mentality still doing those Biblical-age threats. But don’t try to get in touch with me please because they’re really all cannibals and profiteers around me. — Maybe the best reason for reading Dr. Sabin’s letters is I might be able to describe how all this “vision and voices” had gotten hooked up because she’d basically known most everyone in medical-science here and in Europe and a little in Asia and I think she was like a prototype for then this “Armageddon-making Show” onto me. She was like the then- laughingstock of everyone behind her back like this unprovable “show” is for me. And I guess she’d come from Queen Victoria of England’s ovaries, purloined ovae, where this same “magic” was all worked-up off of using her as the laughingstock, under and behind her back, from Victoria to Florence to me the same “magicians” doing the same tricks, so that this poor lady Dr. Sabin had had such a boring life that she’s said to have written to her sister in Denver, also a spinster, just about every evening, and I think I might be able to piece together alot by reading those. She might even have known Kraepelin over in Munich and he’s the worst “character” medical-scientist, that I’m aware of, for perpetrating say this visions and voices business, trick. I think some real-time good could come of me getting up to read those is the point of this, that that vision and voices business is horrifying for me because it seems that if you try to discuss it with anyone the system automatically wants you locked up and drugged and that’s about my biggest personal fear, etc. I’m going to try to get some letter together for this Franklin & Prokopic business, but this is just more of the same “Armageddon Show” scam onto me I’m sure from the various teeny signs or clues I can only go by. I found a photo of “French Connection” author Robin Moore taken not long before he’d passed in 2008 and it’s possible that he might even look a little similar to Mr. Prokopic for instance for some of these difficulties that I’m all alone with. –30- back, and the 2005, and the only, Rene Dubos biography isn’t on the shelf there, so I’d’ve wasted my time getting there, which is a really debilitating trip for me because there’s no food anywhere around the place unless you have money, you can’t bring your lunch with you, and even if you have money the main place is closed on Saturday, it’s a real ordeal to try to read a book in the broke shape that I’m in. It might even be online but I can almost never get online and mostly just try to explain why I send the little pictures that I can and the rest of the time is always the same trying to figure who would take what I’m saying to interest and not be bothered by the cannibal goons that “shadow” anything I think or try to do, is how this “Armageddon Show” does the Armageddon, that lots of people would like to help me but they’re waylaid by the goons and smiley system-people and all I can’t guess at, etc. It’s been like this for decades. So I can relax about trying to make that trip, and feel pretty sure that it’s only worse and worse about what I’d find in looking into Rene’s doings, and I noticed just now that there’s a P.S. 178 Dr. Selman Waksman school on Baychester Avenue in the Bronx, where I’d used to live nearby in Baychester Project, 1963-73, and then I’d joined the Army, and should be able to sit down and figure how to write to the new VA Secretary about all this; worried about the new ONDCP person, who ought to be assisting me, etc., 30.
This is the first scene in Ms. (Barbara) Fuca’s “Mafia Wife,” on her view of that “French Connection” business, with Robin Moore, around 1974 maybe it’d been published; then pages 4-9, with 5 and 6 in backward-order, and 2 others, and my comment, and try to ignore this mess in this file of it so far.
French Connection also.pdf, all the other pages got lost to this beginning of her book, opening scene, 1979-ish by Barbara Fuca with the Robin Moore.
#152, from the beginning of The Last Words of Dutch Schultz, William Burroughs, me still trying to write for copyright permissions but there really is always “fair use” of any published materials and the copyright warnings are like the same “mob intimidation,” but… 0252_001.pdf
but… I don’t think actual Mr. Schultz had really much existed, the mobster, that all that was mostly about the then-time “oil wars.” Mr. Schultz’s operation was allegedly somewhere near where this “fraud-family” I’ve lifetime-been in had been living during the 1930s so I’m trying to look into all this about all this now.
Please open .pdf This is the “French Connection” photo I keep trying to get attention to, that that’s my fraud-parent on the far right and now I’m thinking that not only might that be Lenny Bruce or definitely one from the same spawn as Bruce but that they might even be spawn offspring-descendants of the guy/siblings who were this soon-to-be-canonized “Mother” Mister Teresa. This is real and I can’t get any adult assistance in explaining the whole underground is taking us to extinction, etc. kf
I don’t like for my files to take up any more space than necesary so I might try to send this by email and do it over again, I couldn’t even se – it’s the keyboard, not the Mesage-file maybe, that this library is doing an “Armagedon Program” episode of one of those “offspring” or 2 really, being acros the- the computer keps mayking these typing mistakes, the Armagedon-‘Program” directors are making a comedy-episode out of this personal horor for myself alone here al these years with thiese monsters sneaking around me, siting here in the Shaw library as though this is al trivial god , god, se- the keyboard doesn’t work and one of these “Sea Monkeys” I’ve ben caling them, the “Sea Monkey” file-post a litle ways below here was trying to adres this subject, that these monsters are al around. I can’t type like this obviously and wil try to work in some other file or what now….
— This is all real bad, all around me, and as though I’m a situation-comedy figure the system’s been doing this sneak-Armageddon-making all these years. I’ve got new subjects, maybe 100 points floating in my mind and things to check on the search engine and they did a mind-destroying sneak “show” off of me here, all of which is always unprovable, that it’s all sabotage, and it isn’t really for this file. I have 2 things I’d wanted to quick-mention but I don’t want my blogroll messed up like this and that’s what the bums are doing now. What am I supposed to do with all this crap, since those 3 files on the Bishop Grace, that that’s already something of a “mess” on this opening page here that I don’t want my blogsite like this.
1– There are 4 things in the background-work that I didn’t do.
2– Last night I got evidence that these “fraud-parent offspring-descendants” really are all criminally-insane. It’s only a little-seeming thing, that “Sea Monkey” or “Thunderville-performer” character they keep at that horrifying night-shelter I’ve been stranded in since out from the car-hit nursing facilities business, that all I could find was this “inferno-making shelter” and I’m still stranded like that, etc. They have lots of unprovable “planted” characters that do this Armageddon Program, but I try not to think about things that I don’t have any control over, so I try to ignore everything except my own business which is again in shambles from all these sneak-tricks like with that last keyboard I’d been trying to type on for this “Bronx French Connection” big communication-attempt I’d made, that doesn’t really belong here, I was going to type that into the French Connection file in the MENU above, is what I’ll try to still do but my time is so limited. My point is now that they do this sneak-Armageddon-making largely out of the toilet, honestly, the entire thing has been that level and last evening I went to walk out of that room there where I personally think of it as the “inferno-shelter” but nothing seems abnormal on the outside so it’s just my personal thought, and I saw the “Thunderville-performer/Sea Monkey” headed in through to the same doorway that I was about to leave through and I backed up to around behind the door to leave room for her to go through without any run-in between us and the little monster turned to where I was behind the door and asked if I was going to take a shower. I guess that that’s 3 things that happened to me:
1- I’m afraid of the girl, I think she’s really scary inside the head, really;
2- that is a “stupid question” and it’s none of her business, plus she’d just seen me duck back behind the door for the purpose of making room for her to walk in without any brushing onto each other in the doorframes, etc., that it’s just “flabbergastingly,” frustratingly ludicrous, a stupid but also a spiteful questioning me about nothing just for the sake of annoying me with its presence is all it might have “only” been, etc.,
3- I’m near-deathly afraid of the “slug pneumonia” that comes out of the breaths of the girls that go back and forth between the underworld/s and up here, that I’ve had that slug pneumonia or some phase of it over 70 times since 2005 and have been near-death lots of the time and always stay away from everybody’s mouth, make sure there’s ventilation around if someone’s jabbering at me, so that when I was caught in a small space, was pretty much cornered in that small space between the back of the door and the shower stalls then behind there my instinct was to get away from that mouth that was like only one foot from mine then and if I tried going around her she might move her body to block that path also so I forged through the space between her and the door and I moved slightly so that I didn’t hit into her I guess and from the open side of the area I responded that it’s been a year and a half of me telling you not to bother me about anything, you’re only asking to start trouble with me, but she’d started singing this song that she’s always singing that gets on my nerves real bad because it sounds like it’s about the fraud-parent is why she sings it and that drowned out what I was then trying to say and there was an Armageddon Program “cohort” right there then that was then singing or hum-singing along in harmoney with her as I’d then seen her and was errantly bothering to try to explain that the girl is like a leech on me for this Armageddon Program, the 2 of them singing and I stepped out into the hallway but I’d really wanted to brush my teeth — okay, now there’s a discrepancy, that I recall that I was probably standing near the doorway, not about to walk out but only looking for my toothbrush when I’d seen her, etc., that this doesn’t belong on the front page of any Universe Rescue attempt anything. — I only noticed that the girl had body-blocked my way out of the room and off of her face because when that inane “mess” was over with I’d quick jotted those notes that I have to take and in the process had recognized that the girl had blocked my exit away from her with her whole body, like standing threateningly in front of you so you can’t pass and I’d more or less dived for the smaller-spaced side because I didn’t want her moving to then block the other side if I tried to walk the long way around her. What I’m saying is that wherever she comes from, whatever line from the fraud-parent or a spawn-alike of the fraud-parent or what that she’s got that face and demeanor about herself she’s inherited the criminal insanity of that person, and there are other copies by the thousands. And thousands, and the girl seems “as nice as pie” and the guy’s seem “charming” to strangers or Autists when they feel like performing that role but inside there’s psychopathy, and I’m all alone like this. Then when I came into this library my first thing to do was to add to the WARNING file that there are these 4 things on here that I haven’t edited for, there are like 4 changes on here from what I’d been trying to do, that somehow someone is doing things to my blogsite and when I sat down to work on this today they had one of these “Thunderville-types” if not of the fraud-parent specifically then very similar, sitting opposite and doing some of this spooky stuff that the fraud-parent and then this girl for example are like, that they go around as though minding their own business, like “only” asking me a simple question about the shared bathroom for instance, not doing anything harmful-seeming, but the spiteful little creep had just seen me duck back there to avoid her and I’ve been asking her all this time, whatever it is don’t bother me, just don’t bother me, I have difficulties that I can’t explain to strangers, and also in all this time the thing doesn’t do anything except go around doing these spooky little things around me, never makes any effort to be like a real person about anything, but neither does anybody else because of this underworld and its “Armageddon Program off of Kathy Foshay” that I’ve informed all the people I can about all these years, look at this garbage the system’s made out of my had been real nice normal Saturday list of things to get done and look up here and I still haven’t finished with that I’d sat down to try to add to the WARNING file that there’s alot of tampering with this blogsite that’s going on and that guy was doing the “not doing anything” spooky routines and the keyboard wouldn’t work and finally I’d had to get up and try to get off the terminal and then to this other terminal they had me click-on that I Confirm yes that I have 606 minutes left to my use of their library computers today after this 70 minute session is over with. What? They had this sign say to Write this down, that you understand and agree to these various figures and to this statement, so I again went to try to speak to the clerk here about that and she’d just shrugged, but the clerk that is with her was the first one that had responded to my attempt to go to them to say that something was wrong with the keyboard and she went over and went to sit down in the chair in front of this screen and I tipped the chair over so she couldn’t sit down at this blogsite like she was about to do like she owned it, was the big “program” with that strange guy sitting opposite and the one similar to him and I logged it off instead and went out for a little breather and came back in and they were both gone and the system reassigned me to that same terminal and there likely isn’t anything wrong with it but it’s this tampering problem that’s going on, that these “Sea Monkeys” from the fraud-parent are with this brain-damaged brain-invaders brain-serum eating system and were playing that trick on me and likely doing it with the scenario that that girl would sit there to see what I was trying to explain about the keyboard difficulties, because that’s a difficult thing to prove, you have to type for awhile, and it isn’t the equipment probably it’s probably this “shadow” talent that this line of people that I was stuck into that Bronx family with were trained to do, by these “Merchant of Venice” types, where Bishop Grace does seem to be from that same group to. I’ll try re-typing one day that Bronx French Connection thing into the Category- French Connection file on the above MENU and find the printing-expense for this typing that I hate to delete without having some copy of it, that typing is really alot of drudge work and trying to get this information across is real. Then this morning another bit had occurred to me that’s interconnected with all this and I’d sat down to quick-get mentioned somewhere, but I really don’t like this mess on my front screen.
(– I sent a message later that night: note to myself to insert that heroin picture, and that the “flabbergast” was that also I was standing there with wet hair not only from a shower but then I’d gone out to warm up a bit and it was raining, which then became some thunderstorm too, that it’s warmer outside than in the “clammy” morgue-shelter, that after the scene the girl’d kept walking back and forth from shower to toilet and back so that I couldn’t get over to the sink but was already into the THIS is how that book of Revelation is being pulled off, in the hallway to that guard that brings to my mind Aleister Crowley, by like by Murder, Inc., uhhuh, and then also that in 2001 I’d looked at a room for rent about 3 blocks from this library where the guy had been of that type like the fraud-parent only I hadn’t realized all this back then and the guy had also done that body-blocking “trick,” that this girl did like it was nothing, the psychopathic mind just falls into that threatening pattern while smiling like nothing’s unusual. I’d had to point out to the guy finally that his arm was blocking the doorway and I felt glad to get out of there, realizing that he was a psychopath of some sort.)
french connection agent edward carey.pdf, Could he have been working when Lepke Buchalter turned himself in, I think it was 1941 to J. Edgar Hoover in New York City, with Walter Winchell assisting the event, Buchalter being the boss of the Murder, Inc., contract-murder business, this agent involved in the 1962 French Connection business, in the usual photo I use but also in this one and the book has another photo:
I’ll find out the post # on the “Usual French Connection photo” I use file and add this there then. The caption says he’s Deputy ChiefInspector or NY Narcotics Bureau, Edward Carey, and I have another picture of him I’ll put in here, and the book has a good one of him smiling at the camera. The first photo is from The Life and Times of Lepke Buchalter, American’s Most Ruthless Labor Racketeer, by Paul R. Kavief,f, 2006, published by Barricade Books Inc., 185 Bridge Plaza, North, Suite 308-A, Fort Lee, NJ 07024, book’s dedication to Rita Davis Kramer, the author’s soulmate. I really think that that is Richard Nixon dashing behind Buchalter there because Nixon had just graduated from law school in North Carolina and spent some time in New York and was looking for a job through J. Edgar Hoover, who’d gone to pick-up Buchalter, that that photo is supposedly from that night. That’s said to be Cecil B. DeMille cropped off except for the hand in the lower right, the uncropped version of the photo giving a good look at him but I’m not that familiar with DeMille to think whether it is actually him or just someone that looks like him, what DeMille was doing at that time. But I’m thinking now that that might have been early in Edward Carey’s career, and then he helped with this phony “French Connection” in 1961-62.
— that’s really the “hero-in” way of this system, that all the guys are threatened in this “jet age” by that they might get surrounded and dumped into those big “drums” that all the planes are centered around having been engine-built like, the whole 20th century one big threat to all the normal males that they’re sneak-surrounded by psychopaths. One of the first things the system did after the moon-landing was to go set up some “nuclear device” and all the nuclear devices are centered around the cyclotron, these big drums that spin to puliverization of the “ions.”
— That picture comes from right around here, the Navy Yard. It was a munitions manufacturing place and I have the idea that the system had made it their inferno-site when they learned that the world isn’t flat but round and there’s this area of it also, that they expanded their Revelation to here and I happen to be stranded near where they’d expanded their anti-Babylon business to, here. In the Bronx, I have to try to get it logged in somewhere, that I finally recall the name Martin Cherkovsky, of Montefiore Hospital in the Bronx, that I’d wound up with “pleurisy” after the bizarre-type (saline/at-home) abortion I’d had in late 1971, had wound up in Montefiore in January 1972, and that they’d done a “D&C” while I was there and that ovae/ovaries had been taken without my awareness is possible. I guess I’ll have to try to search-engine for a picture of Mr. Cherkovsky, where I’d used to have one from a book on Montefiore, and I’d looked around for and found a picture of his son a few years back and they don’t look anything alike, as is really what’s going on. Now that photography is everywhere it would be so simple to expose this disembodied-ovaries “Brave New World” way of manufacturing people as the farce it is.
the usual french connection bronx photo And here are a few others but I’m having difficulty getting photos through to here anymore.
I’m only trying to figure if the Tony Fuca below here but not the Tony Fuca in the above line-up picture might or might not actually be either Mr. Bellson or possibly Lenny Bruce or possibly someone that’s closely-related, like a spawn-brother, to them, so I have to leave this here for now in trying to compare the photos and find out whatever more I can, while trying to find personal assistance out of this being-alone-with-the-end-of-the-planet-Earth and species situation. I could be doing other or more-useful things than keep going over the early 1960s when these guys were borrowing on that they’d soon be space-rich for covering loans for expenses.
#265, french connection usual photo/free space
Posted on May 3, 2017 by kathyfoshay
I’m going to try to thin down the files but leave the post-area open for some other file to take it’s place maybe, just leaving this pdf as space-holder for now: the usual French_ _Connection Bronx photo .pdf
Oswald in the Bronx c_ 1953 .pdf, this came out sideways so I’ll try to do it over because last night I found my little notes on Oswald’s addresses in the Bronx:
Trinity Evangelical Lutheran School, 2125 Watson Avenue for 3 weeks, to 9/26/52
JHS 117, 1865 Morris Avenue, 5th grade, 9/30/52-1/6/53
(illeg) 1953 JHS 44, Columbus Avenue and 76th Street, Manh., NYC Youth House for Boys, 6 weeks
**-5 Sheridan Avnue, 1 room basement, (Lerners job for Mrs. Oswald, /Martin’s Deot Store? in Brooklyn I think)
*8?25 E. 179th street
1825 Prospect Avenue (9/24/53 again.
The 179th St. is the one that might be near me at then later P.S. 66, and I think I found the attribution maybe with, page 328, 973.922 F1322 call number/ and, Four Days in November, 2003, if that was the same book. It’d had a cute little picture of him too. Looked a little like George Bush-44 maybe as a 13-year old.
(check that I’ve still got some semi-legible address for a Teasdale Place?
that I can type here but there isn’t time right now anyway because this “Armageddon Show” invisible-torture is killing me. I never have anyone I can discuss any of this with but they’ve been doing this crap all day and now I’d gotten moved along off of the computer and noticed a book on hip-hop, which originated in the Bronx but God help, the fraud-parent is lots involved in that subject because one of the Queens boys in a particular group is some one of the “offspring-descendants” or test-tube baby combo-bombos or whatever of this horror-science fiction bigwig character and I’m always covered by these unspeaking walkby creepy “offspring-descendants” and they’re having some “hayday” as with any “holiday” over this Valentine’s theme and because I was reading about that hip-hop personage the bizarre noise these “New Jerusalem” buildings’ HVAC systems or whatever can make, the building noises, these buildings sound like they’re rockets going to take off and they’re doing that so bad in this library that I had to quit reading the material and I got back to this.
french connection p 78 79 Longfellow Avenue where I lived was a (newly) Puerto Rican neighborhood, circa 1962 then, where the “French Connection” had wound up.
I think Little, Brown had published this Robin Moore co-writer book also but I have to check all the notes, etc. In the meantime I use it as an example of the Autism-difficulty.