Alright everyone, I've set up this site for us to be in constant contact. If you find anything relating to the shit that has been going on, post it here.

Stay stafe everyone,
Josh Moltisanti

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found on a corpse today
So i found both this site (yo, bitches ) and this ... journal on one of the dead guys today.....

*in caboose voice*
Dear diary,
hey me! Today we're gonna be going on a really big trip! We're gonna go knock over a really rich hospital and get a bunch of drugs! Boss man says we're gonna get rich off this!
PG.2
So i drove everybody to that hospital and i did sooo good! Everybody else wrecked and they died! But i just kept on driving. I got us all the way here with bombs and everything!
PG.3

I have some bad news diary. I struck out again.... i was supposed to distract the nurse and she was pretty! I thought i had this one! But, then i panicked and i just said "hey! Boobs! " she didn't appreciate that ..... she got all mad and then i panicked again and she started calling the HR lady. I hate that bitch!
.....
Wait a minute. Do we know the HR lady?
oh well. Anyway i think i almost had this but then Jon came up and bashed her brains out with a bat... they always screw this stuff up! I'd be crawling with ladies without them! Then they said something about her being a "dike" or something. So then the boss said we should check the patients rooms so i found the name of some really rich guys that will definitely kill us so we went straight there! Then the boss got in some trouble with a really big scary guy. He shot the boss. So i ran with Jon in my cart and i almost had this one too! But the scary guy just shot me.... fly free through the galaxy and live Jon!!
bye
Bye
Diary

-Da fuq is this shit??!!
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For whoever pays me for this story!
Here I am, your humble narrator during my exciting travails in the Big Apple, recording the lives of celebrities, politicians, public figures big and small. I, Glynn Pekkanen, hereby avow to you, dear reader, that what you are about to read is indisputably and unequivicably, the truth.

This day (note to self: find out what day this was. Was way to hungover to remember the date. Was either Monday or Thursday, I think) I woke in a closet of an apartment. There had been a party there, celebrating the Goth Rock scene. Notably in attendance was Gwynn "Lamia" Ardelean of the band Dreams in the Hailstorm (Publishers: I got SOOOO many pics, clothing optional!), who paid "special" attentions to yours truly after learning who I was. Leaving the party late in the morning, I was witness to a grisly scene: a Police tank, hot on the heels of some nefarious crook, no doubt, struck a hapless passerby; due to my vast experience in covering wars and combat zones in the past, I surmised that the man would likely have survived (pics! Glorious, gory pics!), had he not landed on the L-tracks and been shot by a madman riding the front car. Naturally, the guilt-ridden officer stepped warily from the vehicle after stopping. I stepped over to lend a witness statement and help calm the driver. Protocol is important for our boys in blue! It was determined in the field by a large man, whom I suppose was a field supervisor, that the accident was not at police fault. In fact, I have photographs of the driver leaning out the window, cupping his hands behind his head to shout a warning to the pedestrian! So really, it was his own fault.

After this happened, so much more! Many field reporters would have retired for the day after such a grisly scene, but I, your humble narrator, am made of far sterner stuff! The police asked for my aid in helping them fight the evils that have befallen this once-fair city, and no good patriot can refuse to help his countrymen! Now, I know what you're thinking: "How can you get involved, Mister Pekkanen? You must be a neutral party, otherwise how can you bring us fair and impartial news of the private lives of our social superiors?" Well, good reader, I tell you this: I did not get involved per se, but I did slip a photograph or two to the police, which they would have subpoena'd from me anyway. Plus, that field supervisor was REALLY big, and he asked nicely.

So now you're thinking I was off, all over the city aiding our best and brightest in their most difficult cases! No, that came later. Now, out from the very same building I had left, was again the lovely "Lamia" Arelean! She must have still been charmed from the night prior and practically begged to come along with yours truly, offerring herself and her many, rather fashionable, chains to me and the officers.

Suddenly, an explosion burst forth from a building not a hundred feet from where I stood! Surely this sounds like a bad action novel from the late nineties, but I give you my sacred vow that all this it true! The officers stood dumbfounded at their situation, but I kept a level head. Rushing forth with naught but my trusty camera and nerves of steel, I looked for wounded and survivors. I saw none but one: a man in a business suit, carrying a duffel bag and what appeared to be a mask of some sort. He seemed to be a dangerous man, and not having any official authority, I made the decision to not approach him. I got no good picture of him due to the smoke and flames, but I noticed him get in a dark sedan that pulled around a corner.

I returned to the officers and showed them the pictures, including one of the sedan's license plate! They were quite impressed with my amateur gumshoeing. After getting a call from their headquarters, or "boss" as the supervisor called him, we headed over to the Callway TransMedia Building to investigate the well-being of many of our high-society notables.

On the way, however, I had another close-encounter of the celeb kind! Ms. Ardelean, quite unintentionally of course, had distracted the driving officer from the road with her posing for a few pictures for me. Our driver turned back just in time to see we were rapidly approaching one of the most-recognizable vehicles in the city: it was the gold-plated H1 series Hummer belonging to none other than the recently scandal-ridden gangter rapper, Martin "Playboy Money" Chiddi!
In a heroic effort to correct his innocent mistake, the officer did all in his power to stop us before we hurt one of this city's most prolific "artists". Alas, to no avail! We plowed into the heavily-modified SUV's side, tilting it on its side. I leaped from the back of our tank to document the officer's first-responder skills in action, but instead of thanking the police for their assistance, the "singer" started shooting at them like a common thug! Now, rumor mill had recently put out that Mr. Chidi has sexual problems, but now there's proof: I have photographic evidence of "Playboy Money" actually shooting blanks! Since we hadn't the time or resources to take the so-called gangster with us for processing (honestly! shooting at the good guys, even with blanks!), the officers elected to simply chase off the poser, who, when he realized that the police had real ammunition, promptly soiled himself and began crying as he fled the scene! Check the video HERE!(note: look up how to link to video again. I keep forgetting) It may be unprofessional of me to surmise this, but after a display like that, I have to imagine that Mr. Chidi's life as a "gangster rap artist" is now quickly coming to a close. Especially since we found no trace of drugs or illicit substances of any kind while searching his vehicle for the police report. Indeed, the only item of note in the gaudy truck was a well-thumbed copy of the King James' Bible!

Regardless, we were once again soon on our way to the Callway Tower, to help out the best society has to offer! Upon breezing past the tight security with but a word from me, we found the guests of Mr. Callway to be in high spirits and faring well (note: put video on MrSkin.com). Many reporters would have been nervous meeting with the powerful godfather of the infamous Joshua Multisanti, but I, your humble narrator, was completely calm and relaxed during our meeting. I even had the pleasure of meeting a lovely Indian socialite. Her name escapes me at the moment as it is rather hard to pronounce, but I am certain we shall meet again, as she seemed rather taken with my ruggedly handsome persona. However, I may have to let her down easy if she advances on me, dear reader, as I am a one-woman man of integrity who currenly has Ms. Ardelean on my arm. Not to mention that she seemed to be involved on some level with the good Mr. Callway himself, and I am not the sort to horn in on another man's relations. (note: get more pics, the one of him fisting her was off-center)

Mr. Callway, after being reassured of the police's duty to protect all of the city's denizens, asked of us a favor: to meet with someone at Columbia University just across town, who should be helpful to us. We agree, and head over there. We travel around Central Park, where we believed there would have been too many pedestrians during this time of crisis to make good time, but ran into a snag just blocks from our destination: some of the local flavor had organized into a gang. Where they got those purple vests and top hats, I may never know, but I want to! Unfortunately, they were being uncooperative with my new friends of the badge. I was about to try and negotiate for us, using my influence and fame to lever us through. Crude, yes, but we were on a time crunch! We just HAD to meet with Mr. Callway's friend! Before I could get out of the tank, the supervisor dismounts and approaches the leader. I filmed the entire encounter, but I must say that that man's negotiating skills are top-notch! He didn't even have to threaten to arrest a single person, and the gang parted like the Red Seas for us!

Well, now here I am, at Columbia University typing this account, while the officers are checking the buildings for our contact. We haven't met yet, but I have a great feeling there will be more excitement to come! In fact, I feel the excitement is closer than even I think...

This is your humble narrator, Glynn Pekkanen, signing off! Stay classy, America!
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