Genes gave Health. Smock Guy gave Wealth. Great Books College gave Wisdom. Then I got the Landlord from Hell.

3 out of 4 ain’t bad. I count my blessings. I can make tri-nitrotoluene but I do not seek to make Cabover Drive building fly like a rocket. The support pillar positions are clear. The lift capacity of 40 lbs of TNT is pretty strong. Buildings can be made to fly. But revenge is for God not me.

If my landlord kills me (see Commandment One), St. Peter will send him away. Heaven is not for those who do murder. Their souls are tainted, they get purgatory is they are lucky, but my landlord will be in hell, although that’s not for me to predict or decide.

I have asked for help from Trump, my Governor, and my Mayor. But the idea of public service is actually fake as anybody who ever needed some has found out. My Mayor may decide not to send his Sheriff to do armed robbery and murder on me, but I have no way to guess what any political person will do. My letter is being read by very capable people in the White House and they may be able to block my landlord from ever getting another vet as a renter.

A Maryland Court has put a $20,000 fine on my landlord for its disgusting conduct, but that money is chump change in comparison to the landlord’s annual profits that are gained by using the name “Maryland” to bring in trusting renters (future crocodile food).