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Rochester, curious about the origin and necessity of anything devised by a chosen few that calls itself Code Enforcement? You have the right to be. It does not claim the right of eminent domain, yet covets neighbor's property to serve pseudo visions. "Which pry not to the interior, but like the marlin, sits on the outside wall, even in the road of force and casualty."
Remember when Wicca types stomped and emoted fear, "Developers are coming to destroy us!" The preaching of doom is part of a professional activist package, a rouse used to get in the door where Voodoo could then mesmerize the feeble into believing that past laws were obsolete and useless, and we would die unless these new saviors created new laws and newly told us what to do.
Moratoriums, without public participation, were schemed by backroom witch doctors. By the way, during the past election, did not Mr. Fornal mention, without proof, he had the goods on all the 'good ole boys' and they were going to jail? A zombie base must believe in falsely stigmatizing opponents, because slander becomes an appointed planning board chair.
Now Mr. Fornal sits on Code Enforcement amongst zombies who crave the illusion of change as their substance of life. They cunningly use minutia to erode personal stewardship into toilet paper control. Code Enforcement zombies want to bury organic growth in a graveyard of restrictions and ineptitude, unaware that change is not merely a headstone of pompous feelings, change is every moment birth, death and decay.
With a God like attitude, madam supervisor pads budgets to pay for hidden spells. She conjures up 150 pages of civil right restrictions, then fires loyal town workers who refuse to curtsy and has the gall to give those local jobs to zombies who live elsewhere. Full-time locals get rejected from volunteer boards that become filled with weekend, bedroom zombies.
Our elected zombies were recognized to be brain dead by a small claims court. That is more than ethically challenged, and it puts light on why it is impossible for them to apologize to Manuela Michailescu.
Zombies do not respect us, they can only use and abuse us, we should feel no obligation to respect them, just the office they hold.
Zombies whine for compromise yet are capable of none. Did you notice at the last meeting not one zombie clapped for any testimony of hardship or handicap?
Many zombies rested for years in tombs of sunless city rectangles, mindlessly imprinted with the rural life of Beverly Hill Baba. Apparently, narcissism leaves zombies incapable for caring about others' rights, so how could they possibly care about you?
We need a referendum to protect ourselves from an over zealous zombie invasion.
Bill Dukas
Kerhonkson
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