Thursday, November 22, 2018

Thanksgiving: A Lesson in Gratitude

I found myself becoming irritated yesterday as I watched people I know on social media talking about the various plans they had for today. My irritation grew this morning as I realized how little I have of the traditional holiday fare. 

One of the things that is unique to Judaism is that Jews pray after they eat. The reasoning is that it is easy to be grateful when one is hungry, but once sated it is even easier to forget from whence it came. After I finished breakfast this morning I did my usual post-meal prayer and, while searching for other things for which I should express gratitude, I realized how ungrateful I was being.

How soon we forget. Just six months ago I was homeless and I had been homeless for four years. There are no holidays on the street, except that is the one time of the year people are generous and give the homeless things they lack the rest of the year, one of those things being food. I remember being grateful and annoyed at the same time that people were showering me with clothing, food, and cash for a couple of weeks at the end of the year while forgetting the homeless even exist the rest of the year. I always tried to focus on the gifts I was receiving instead of dwelling on my annoyance, but I am human. 

But, right when I had resigned myself to being in this state for the rest of my life, at long last the Veteran's Administration managed to get me off the streets. I now have a studio apartment, a small wardrobe, food in the cabinets and refrigerator, and a door I can lock and enjoy quiet solitude, emphasis on "quiet". I rarely emerged from my home during the summer, loving the fact that I did not have to interact with another living being unless I wanted to do so.

What, then, was my complaint? Hearing other people's plans reminded me of the "good old days" when I had a real life with family and friends. On every special occasion, I cooked and/or baked whatever the particular holiday required. I enjoyed playing hostess and having the opportunity to show off my culinary skills. Frankly, I should be at a point in my life where I am grateful not to have all of that work to do!

But, as I prepare to cook my chicken dinner for Thanksgiving, those same memories point out the stark contrast between those days and this day. Ordinarily I would be serving turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, a green vegetable of some kind (maybe in a casserole), salad, homemade salad dressing, dinner rolls from scratch, homemade whole berry cranberry sauce, and cans of jellied cranberry sauce for people like myself who do not care for the actual berry. We would have the usual range of things to drink, with the additions of wine and egg nog.

Instead, I am baking chicken leg quarters (because all of the turkeys at the store were huge and cost a minimum of $22!), making Stove Top stuffing, and canned cranberry sauce. Quite a step down, right? Except when I recall where I was this time last year, and the year before, and the year before, and the year before. Then I realize I get to cook everything to my liking and serve it hot when I am ready to eat it. I may not have much, but I have what I need with periodic treats the L-rd sees fit to give me.

So, I apologize for my ingratitude and embrace my Creator for providing me with this new life and for enabling me to enjoy today with a renewed sense of thankfulness. May I never forget where I have been nor the people who are still out there. May He give them comfort and bless them the way He has me.

Happy Thanksgiving


Monday, October 15, 2018

#JamalKhashoggi

I was holding out for the information I requested from the State Department before writing another article so as to keep the series uninterrupted, but this situation is too important for me not to post my thoughts.  I will post a link to my Twitter Moment on this subject at the bottom of this article so readers can see where I got the information I will be recounting.

On October 2nd, Jamal Khashoggi was seen entering the Saudi consulate in Istanbul, Turkey. A few hours later, we were told he was missing. Initial reports from Al Jazeera said Khashoggi had been seen leaving the consulate twenty minutes after he entered. This information has since been tossed aside. The next day, we received very disturbing information that the Saudis had flown fifteen "diplomats" to Turkey, that Khashoggi had been tortured, killed, and dismembered, and that these "diplomats" most likely removed the body parts in diplomatic pouches that are not subject to being searched. The only evidence we were given was a very brief video clip of Khashoggi entering the consulate.

Very few people questioned this narrative. In fact, it was readily adopted and calls to hold Crown Prince MBS to account for this alleged butchery soon became shrill. These calls reached fever pitch when Turkey claimed to have audio and video recordings proving their claim as to Khashoggi's fate.

I was suspicious of the story from the start. It made no sense to me whatsoever, and evidence began to filter in that supported my apprehension. Supposedly Khashoggi was engaged to a woman who just happened to be Turkish, and photographs began to emerge of the "couple". Fortunately, there are a lot of sleuths on Twitter, and they went to work. 

The first thing we learned was that Khaled Saffuri, the man who held the press conference making the outlandish claims as to Khashoggi's fate, has ties to Al Qaeda and Islamic Jihad (again, refer to the link below). Then someone analyzed one of the photographs of the couple and concluded it had been Photoshopped. At the same time, someone purporting to be a Syrian journalist began circulating the story that the Lebanese Prime Minister, Hariri, had been kidnapped last year by Riyadh (@BBassem7). We got into a heated argument because I remembered the incident in question. Hariri had resigned his post, on the air, and gone to Riyadh out of desperation because his government is heavily infiltrated by Hezbollah. I began to suspect this was an assault on Saudi Arabia by Turkey and Iran.

Then a reporter from the United Arab Emirates (@HSajwanization) posted astonishing information about Jamal Khashoggi's Twitter account (I had not even thought to look and see if Khashoggi had a Twitter account; my bad!) While the journalist was still missing, his Twitter account had been altered, with posts being deleted and following/unfollowing people! That is somewhat difficult to do if you are in fifteen pieces somewhere in the Sahara desert, and I cannot imagine why his captors would have demanded his Twitter password so they could screw around with his stats!

Now, I have no idea what has happened. My point is, neither does anyone else, and I am disturbed at how readily people are believing the narrative out of Ankara, practically demanding MBS' head on a platter with ZERO evidence to support Erdogan's claim. It is my hope that President Trump and Secretary Pompeo are treading very cautiously and are not jumping on the bandwagon like the media and the general public are doing. Obviously, we should watch this story very closely, but we must exercise our critical thinking skills and not jump to conclusions because the MSM wants us to do so. 

One other thing. It is possible the reason Erdogan released Pastor Brunson was to get in Trump's good graces. Given the impromptu question-and-answer session this morning, it seems the ploy worked. Fortunately, he can always change his mind and I hope that he does so. 

I will keep everyone posted, and will continue with General Flynn's situation as soon as I get my FOIA back from the State Department.






Tuesday, July 17, 2018

General Flynn vs. Peter Strzok: Mounting Evidence of a Vendetta

What a difference a day makes. The evidence is mounting rapidly that this was, indeed, a hit job on General Flynn. I will let everyone read these first two background articles for themselves so that I can get to the real bombshells:



This next article reveals information that, were I in military intelligence, I just might want to find out what was going on:


Skipping past Peter Strzok's family history, the final paragraph brings Uranium One into the picture. Readers will recall from yesterday's article that Strzok Sr., as well as Mark Strzok, both have backgrounds in nuclear activity. The George Webb video (which was also in one of yesterday's links) at the bottom tells a very frightening story of uranium being transferred from Russia to the United States beginning back in 1993. As I listened, I kept asking why on earth we were buying uranium from Russia when we appear to have just turned around and sold it back twenty years later! But when I thought about it for a while, something occurred to me. If this uranium was being brought here, not just to help the Navy but as cover for a nefarious enrichment program, the plan may have been to ship it to Iran. However, the plan did not come to fruition before the administration changed, and with the "War on Terror" starting, and the administration's strong desire to strike Iran, it was temporarily scuttled. Why would this scenario even cross my mind? Because when the opportunity presented itself, THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED:


Rumors have swirled around that deal ever since it was made, and since I am not a nuclear expert I do not want to get very far afield. But rumor has it some of the uranium is "missing", and rumor has it the "missing" uranium went to Iran. [NOTE: The Hill article says "Asia"; for those who do not know Iran is in Western Asia (not the Middle East, as I am certain many people believe).] Can I prove it? Of course not. But we are not here to play military intelligence officers. We are here to figure out what Peter Strzok's problem is, so let us continue.

The following article forced me to take a long break to try and calm down:


"EXPOSED: Peter Strzok...Worked as Obama and Brennan's Envoy to Iranian Regime"

Let that sink in. 

I urge my readers to study every single word of that article, but I want to draw your attention to the dates it covers on this subject. 2011 through 2015. Who was Director of the Defense Intelligence Agency for most of that time?

General Flynn.

Do you think he might have been slightly interested in what was happening in Iran? 

YOU BET!

But, we are not quite done. It is time for the piece de resistance. We have been discussing Peter Strzok for a while now, and John Brennan's name keeps rearing its ugly head. But now we add another name:


JOHN. FUCKING. KERRY.

If you are like me, you are now wishing you could just move into a padded room somewhere, safe from the world, with plenty of medication to keep you looped. So, I will allow you to read that article on your own; it has some excellent information on the spy infiltration of the Trump campaign. But, we are getting there, readers. Again, if anyone has anything to add, please comment below or reach me on Twitter at @PizzaGateLibya.

To Be Continued





Monday, July 16, 2018

General Flynn vs. Peter Strzok: Round Two?

...Or, maybe, Round Three?

Since Thursday, with the exception of very short breaks, I have been digging into Peter Strzok's history. There is precious little to be found when searching his name, and his biography, as it were, skips decades at a time. However, thanks to fellow Internet researchers/analysts, I have been able to piece together some disturbing information and, with the help of a couple of extremely experienced and well-qualified friends, have come up with a couple of hypotheses I will share later in this article.

Peter Strzok is an arrogant ass. As I watched him during the joint congressional hearing, I really wanted to knock the man out of his chair! My personal favorite line of his was, "Happy to indulge you." SLAP!!! He exudes "I know more than you do and you are far too stupid to catch me!" It was that attitude that got me reconsidering what happened to General Flynn. Having watched that performance, I found it impossible to believe he did not catch it, yet somehow he fell into Strzok's "trap". I have never, for one minute, believed such a thing happened, but now I know it. So, I decided to take a little trip into Strzok's history. The results are alarming.

Oddly enough, I got this idea from the movie "Thirteen Days". (Don't laugh.) I remembered Kenny O'Donnell trying to figure out if the back channel who had approached the Kennedy administration was genuinely representing Khrushchev. He went to the FBI and compared Khrushchev's biography with the man in question, side-by-side. Lo-and-behold, the two had met while in the military. So, I asked myself the same question. Is it possible General Flynn and Peter Strzok met before the whole "Russian collusion" nonsense began? 

My first stop was Wikipedia, which has precious little to say about the G-man. Next, I found the following post on Reddit:


The first comment gave me a starting point, along with doing a little math to determine Strzok had to have been active duty late 1991/early 1992 through 1995/1996. Next, I began asking questions on Twitter. Before long, someone told me that the 82nd (General Flynn) probably did joint exercises with the 101st (Strzok), but they were not certain. Meanwhile, I was checking various hashtags, and I found the following thread:


Thomas Wictor is a well-known researcher and blogger, and the information in this thread is startling, to say the least. Peter Strzok Sr. worked for a well-known CIA front company (Bell-Textron) in...wait for it...IRAN. He states in the newspaper article that he was a fan of the Ayatollah Khomeini. I will let readers finish that thread on their own, because I need to move on to the next link. This one comes from another researcher and blogger, "SnowWhite7IAM:


Skipping past all of the commentary on the hearing, we reach the following, stunning information: Peter Strzok worked for the FBI and CIA at the same time:


This position was created by Congress in 1996? If so, that would explain why Peter Strzok was on the Joint Secret Service/CIA Task force. I urge readers to go through this thread very carefully, along with the following related Reddit:


So now that I had a launching point, I began doing some independent searches and came up with the following, very disturbing article:


Let us walk through this. The first thing we see is Haiti. Hold onto your hats for that one; we will return to it in just a moment. Then the writer begins tracing Peter Strzok's family tree and, boy, is it interesting. And very frightening. Iran. CIA. Nuclear reactors. General James Cartwright (related by marriage). Stuxnet (the computer worm allegedly planted in Iran by the Israelis, said information having been leaked by Cartwright):


We also have Kenya. Late-night meetings at the White House. Melissa's promotion to the SEC at a very suspicious time. Peter Jr. being the last one to see the Datto server. The rest of the article covers possible connections to Barack Obama, but it is slightly off the topic of this post. 

Back to Haiti. In my endeavor to determine whether-or-not General Flynn and Peter Strzok ever crossed paths in the Army, someone brought up Operation Uphold Democracy:


As readers will note, the 101st joined the 82nd in that operation. Does that necessarily mean the two men meet in Haiti? No, but the person went on to mention Fort Polk, home of the Joint Readiness Training Center (JRTC):


Could they have met there? We might be able to figure that out if we had Strzok's full biography instead of that threadbare Wikipedia article. Either way, given Peter Strzok Sr.'s involvement with Catholic Relief Services (a rumored CIA front), it is pretty much a given that, by the time of the earthquake and the subsequent Haiti Relief Fund being raided by the Clintons, I believe we have enough "there, there" to warrant further investigation:


I have every reason to believe I am on track when I assert there was some other motive in Peter Strzok's treatment of General Flynn other than "just" hating this administration, and I will be digging further starting right after I finish this post. I firmly believe this is the key to clearing General Flynn's name. Please stay tuned and, if any of my readers has information that would help, please feel free to post a comment. I can also be reached on Twitter at @PizzaGateLibya.

To Be Continued 






Thursday, July 5, 2018

General Flynn: The Truth Explodes

Wednesday morning I saw a Twitter thread that sent my mind spinning:


The information is well-researched and well-written. I am not going to regurgitate nor rewrite; rather, I would like to include my own thoughts based upon two days of weeding through it. I encourage my readers to follow along and, while time-consuming, do their own digging. 

[NOTE: I HIGHLY RECOMMEND readers open Mr. Carlson's article side-by-side with mine as you read.]

First, when I read about Mission Ridge and Integrity Applications Incorporated (IAI), my mind went to the Department of Defense and CIA. More on that as we get further into the information presented. Let me just ask the reader to suspend judgment as to whether or not IAI is a "private contractor". 

The next tweet in the thread contains this article:


Incredible work by Jeff Carlson, CFA. For whatever reason, I did not know about "The Market Works" until this week. Many thanks to Nick Weil for educating me. 

Now, let us go through some of the astounding facts Mr. Carlson presents. Why is it the same names keep popping up? We barely begin this article before we see Mueller, Yates, Lynch (AG), and Clapper (DNI). Enter Admiral Mike Rogers who, as you will see, was brilliant. Readers will recall the report that James Clapper and Ash Carter (SECDEF) demanded Rogers be fired after his visit to Trump Tower on November 17th. As we shall see, Clapper made this demand one month earlier, at the same time Admiral Rogers reported FISA abuses to the FISC. (I am sure this was mere coincidence.) 

The next thing we notice is DOJ's and FBI's flagrant disregard of OIG Horowitz' request for oversight of the National Security Division at Justice, spearheaded by Sally Yates. So in April, 2016, Rogers stops "all outside contractor access to raw FISA data". (Sorry, guys. There are no page numbers here. I hope you are following along.) Remember that Peter Strzok was planning a trip to Mission Ridge in September, 2016? As we go through the timeline presented we see that, after the first FISA request was denied, the second was granted on October 21, 2016. Based upon what? The Fusion GPS so-called "dossier", which was commissioned by Perkins Coie between April and October of 2016. Perkins Coie is counsel of record for the DNC:


Unfortunately, Admiral Rogers did not get to the FISA court until October 26th, five days after the FBI had completed its end run around his order. Obviously, he realizes this so, on November 17th he visits President-Elect Trump. THAT SAME DAY, Trump moves his transition team out of Trump Tower. 

My impression at this point in the article is, the intelligence community (IC) was in an all-out war with Admiral Rogers, and I believe the data supports my impression. So far we have DOJ, the FBI, and the DNI all doing whatever-in-hell they want, inspectors general and NSA be damned. (Don't worry; CIA shows up shortly.) 

As to John Carlin, I have one word: Chickenshit.

DOJ's withholding of the IG's report of January 7, 2016 is nothing short of contempt of court. It is prosecutorial misconduct, worthy of sanctions. As we go on, let us recall the outrage when the American public discovered the NSA was collecting metadata! Citizens wanted the NSA burned to the ground! Yet, here we have umpteen violations of the Fourth Amendment, and we hear nary a whisper. 

"The NSA was unable to ascertain all the various avenues by which raw FISA data was accessed." This is where IAI, Fusion GPS and, I submit, CIA enter the picture. Readers will recall the release of Vault 7 by Wikileaks, showing all of the various tools that Julian Assange alleged were being used against American citizens. Unfortunately, someone has decided to shut off his access to the public so we cannot ask him about it. 

"FISA abuses were ongoing from at least November 1, 2015 through May 1, 2016. They almost certainly started earlier." Maybe around the time Donald Trump formally announced his candidacy for President of the United States on June 16, 2015? Peter Strzok: "No, no [Trump] won't. We'll stop it." How is he so cock-sure? 

I wish I had paper copies (not computer-generated) of the redactions. The blacked-out portions would be quite easy to read. As a matter of fact, I tried several times with the query violation table at the beginning of Mr. Carlson's article and I could just make out the difference between the overlaid black and the print beneath. Maybe if I were younger and my eyes were better I could do it. Regardless, we can make some educated guesses. "Private contractors, employed by the FBI, were given full access to raw FISA data." Again, the assumption that [redacted] is a "private contractor". How do we know that? It is common knowledge that CIA, while prohibited from operating against American citizens on U.S. soil, does PRECISELY THAT through front businesses. Maybe, like IAI and Fusion GPS?  I have my suspicions. 

Let us skip down close to the end. "The [Russia] report was technically created by a joint effort between the CIA...FBI...and the NSA...and assembled by the DNI...."

This report stated, "CIA and FBI have high confidence in this judgment; NSA has only moderate confidence." For those who are unfamiliar with the world of the IC, CIA and FBI seem to have a habit of working together, and I for one find CIA's glaring absence from most of this to be highly suspicious. How could John Brennan determine anything if he was just sitting on his hands? BTW, it is also well-known the CIA and the Pentagon work closely together. I wonder what Ash Carter was doing, besides demanding Admiral Rogers be fired? On what did he base that demand? Again, these are my thoughts; I cannot prove it (although I wish I could).

I leave it to far more well-trained and brilliant minds than mine to go into all of the nuances of this outrageous activity. The reason for my article is that EVERYTHING THAT WAS COLLECTED BASED UPON THE FISA WARRANT AND SUBSEQUENT RENEWALS WAS OBTAINED ILLEGALLY, and therefore any and all investigations and subsequent indictments based upon that warrant are "fruit of the poisonous tree" and are NULL AND VOID. First and foremost, General Flynn's "confession" was extracted in violation of Brady:


Not only was the investigation tainted, but prosecutors failed to disclose exculpatory evidence (not the least of which was the FBI's own admission, via James Comey, that he was NOT found to be untruthful).

General Flynn's continued legal trouble is insane. It is a travesty. It is a war against a man who has done NOTHING but serve this country with distinction and honor. A court-of-martial would be appalled, and a first-year JAG would wipe the floor with this "case"! The plea agreement should be thrown out WITH PREJUDICE (meaning the government can never raise the issue again), and Judge Sullivan should send General Flynn home with his deepest apologies.

Let us pray he does.




Thursday, April 19, 2018

#NXIVM, #Gulen, #Syria, and #Benghazi (cont.)

"That which hath been is that which will be and that which hath been done is that which shall be done, and there is nothing new under the sun." (Ecclesiastes 1:9)

The verse popped into my head repeatedly as I was reading detail after detail of what Keith Raniere did to his "converts". I kept thinking, "I have seen this movie before", and indeed I have. Many times, as a matter of fact. Let me give readers just one example from the following website (many thanks to Frank Parlato):

"According to the complaint, India told Jane Doe 2 that in order to learn more, she had to provide 'collateral', which Jane Doe 2 did in the form of a video in which Jane Doe 2 divulged a damaging secret...."


Did anyone else flash on any similar situations? The first thing that popped into my head was the Skull and Bones Society:


But that is only one of potentially dozens, if not hundreds, of such associations in this country and the implications are staggering. For years, those of us who love America have been stumped as to why men who seemed to care about this country as much as we do suddenly became incapable of standing their ground on any issue of importance, eventually coming to the conclusion they were being blackmailed over some unknown issues.

I urge everyone to go through Frank Parlato's website with a fine-toothed comb; it contains so much more than "just" India Oxenberg's case. Meanwhile, let us get back to cases that are similar to that of NXIVM. For those readers who were diligent during the email drops in the 2016 election, subsequent cases of human trafficking that have been uncovered, and a certain television star who has been trying fervently to educate us, another cult should come to mind: Scientology. And, for those readers who have been keeping up with "QAnon" who had Scientology spring to mind, they now have three little letters of the alphabet running through their minds: "C", "I", and "A". Let me just post a search page so that readers can take their pick(s) of relevant article(s):


CIA (and other intelligence agencies such as the KGB) have used sex in order to keep marks under control and/or force them into doing things they would not do otherwise. It is a despicable habit, and I could write a complete dissertation on this tactic, but time and space do not permit me to go down that trail at this time.

Which brings us to Benghazi. What could possibly connect a perverted cult to a terrorist attack in North Africa? How about Sara Bronfman and her husband, Baset Igtet? Did my readers go through the links I provided in my first post on April 15th? I deliberately left out the following article because it is simply so explosive it should have everyone's undivided attention:


When I first ran across this article I had no idea what I was going to find. I certainly had no idea how long my mouth was going to hang open after reading it. John Kerry and John McCain. The hair on the back of my neck is standing up just from typing those two names. Additionally, the mention of the U.S./Libya Chamber of Commerce has my brain reaching for something it cannot quite find, so I must pose a question to my readers: Didn't Ambassador Stevens attend some sort of ceremony a day or two before his death? If so, was it a ground-breaking or an opening for this CoC? (I am not being lazy; I have a zillion files and I am not putting my finger on the right page[s] yet.)

I was stunned, to say the least, when I ran across a connection between NXIVM and Benghazi. I would never have suspected in a million years. But, the evidence is clear that, at the very least, Igtet had a sentimental interest in his home town and, combined with what I uncovered in 2016, he is definitely someone I would label a "person of interest". For those who have not seen my Benghazi/PizzaGate post, here is the link:


I had no idea how right I was, did I? While this one article drew more readers than any article I have written before or since, I was still only scratching the surface. At the same time, the NXIVM connection seems to answer some questions that were left hanging after I tied PizzaGate to Benghazi, and resurrects some others I have yet to answer. Remember, we already knew about the gun-running (see link above), so the excuse that CIA had an annex in order to track weapons just does not fly. Now, if you would like to float a theory whereby CIA was monitoring human trafficking or doing something a little shadier like "helping" people make such liaisons, I am more than willing to listen. And, one last question: Who was the woman CIA was protecting that night before they were called back to the compound because of the attack? Supposedly she was talking about some sort of oil deal; could it have been Sara Bronfman and, if so, were they discussing oil, or human, distribution? So many questions, even after five-and-one-half years. 

At any rate, I believe I have given readers enough to digest, so let me close here and save Fethullah Gulen for next time. Please post any thoughts, possible answers, or questions in the comments section below. Thank you for reading!







Sunday, April 15, 2018

#NXIVM, #Gulen, #Syria, and #Benghazi

What a wild weekend. I was away from electronics for one day and when I returned I discovered we had bombed Syria yet again after yet another chemical attack. I am gratified to learn that people are beginning to catch on to this charade; as I checked my Twitter feed I saw more users blaming the chemicals on the "rebels". Unfortunately, that knowledge has not caught up to this administration and that is very troubling to me. I suspect the problem is "Mad Dog" Mattis, combined with President Trump's unwavering loyalty to those in uniform. While his attitude is a very refreshing change from the Barry years, that same attitude is causing him not to question the military around him because, "He has five rows of ribbons!" Oh, that General Flynn would not have been targeted by the Deep State. Trump really needs the sanity General Flynn would have provided.

Even more dangerous is all the fingers being pointed at Russia, not just over this chemical attack but also the poisoning of two "former" KGB agents. Somehow our government has forgotten what it is we stand for in this country. We do not execute people without benefit of trial. We do not take a vote, based upon no evidence, and find them guilty in a kangaroo court. Yet that seems to be where Nikki Haley excels. We had no evidence in Idlib. There was no time to accumulate evidence in Idlib. Yet we lobbed 59 missiles (at $1.5 million apiece) at Syria because, "Meh. Da babeees!" And we just did the same thing this weekend. There used to be something called an "investigation", but I guess it does not apply at the UN. 

The joke of the year, however, goes to the Skrypal case. Theresa May immediately jumped to the conclusion Putin had tried to kill them. She managed to get her good ole ally Mommy America to go along with her outrage. When Porton Down said it could not identify the substance, never mind its origin, no one at the UN heard them because everyone was too busy pounding on their desks screaming for vengeance. The funny part came late yesterday. I will post a link to the entire search page so that everyone can see what is so "funny":


OOPS. Theresa made a tiny little mistake there, huh? And before someone says, "Well, they could be wrong. Or maybe the Russkies paid off the Swiss. Or maybe..." let me just say: THAT IS THE POINT! Is there any particular reason that it was an international emergency to expel Russian diplomats before the ink was even dry on the order? Is there any particular reason no one cared what facts might come out during an investigation? What is this? The Salem Witch Trials?!

I have one more thing to address before I move on to other topics. It was bad enough when people were blaming Bashar al-Assad for using chemicals on civilians, but now the Russia hysteria has shifted to Syria, with people swearing the Syrians and the Russians are both committing these atrocities. That claim is positively ludicrous for any number of reasons. However, I would like my readers to review the following videos and see if they can figure out what is really happening. (HINT: Think Hamas and Israel.):


If anyone would like some funny bloopers to go along with the above Twitter "moment":


We call this "Pallywood". Any questions?

On a different subject, someone tweeted me early last week and asked if I had looked into NXIVM. I admitted I had not but promised I would do so. Well, I kept that promise and what I have discovered is insane. Many readers will have heard of Keith Raniere's arrest, and will also know the charges for which he was arrested. I am not addressing this issue because I want to bore my readers with information they already know. I am covering it because of what most of my readers likely do NOT know. In fact, it is so mind-boggling I am struggling to figure out how to write it in an organized fashion.

Actually, as I sit here considering an outline, I have decided just to put the information up for everyone to review. This is what professional journalists call a "developing story" so I think using this article as a primer I can write a detailed explanation in my follow-up post which will be much easier for everyone to follow.










These articles are in no particular order, but I urge everyone to go through them as you have time. HINT: If you do not run across the name "Clinton" several times, you missed something. I will post the follow-up article soon (it should not take long for more information to come out).

ONE FINAL NOTE: I promised Gulen and Benghazi. Astute readers will find the connections. For those who would like to wait for me to break it down in my next article, please stand by! 


Saturday, April 14, 2018

Voice for the Voiceless: The Homeless

Oddly enough, I am currently reading "Breakfast at Sally's" by Richard Le Mieux. It is Mieux' autobiography in which he describes his battle with homeless. His story is very much like my own, except he had a vehicle and I do not.

Within his story is a description of how the homeless are viewed by society, stating, "...people are afraid of the homeless...disgusted when they see a person digging through a garbage can...frightened when someone unclean talks to them...." (p. 243)

Some of those fears are exacerbated by a relatively small percentage of people who are mentally ill and/or on illegal ugs, people who think nothing of turning the world into a garbage heap and who relieve themselves whenever and wherever the mood strikes.

He goes on to quote Elliot Lisbow's "Tell Them Who I Am" stating, "You are not needed anywhere, not wanted anywhere. Nobody cares what you do." (P. 248) How true that is. In fact, I have an acquaintance who was a self-professed "spook" for twenty-three years and one day I told him, "If the IC [intelligence community] ever wants to know what is going on in the world, they should pose as homeless people." He grinned and nodded his head.

I am serious. Over the course of three years (before I returned to Las Vegas) I have spied on the Egyptian Embassy, the Saudi Embassy, the State Department, and have listened to various phone conversations as well as those occurring at the table next to me that I am pretty sure included classified information. (Does a conversation with Samantha Power in the Green Room of the White House qualify? Who needs the NSA when people insist on shouting at the person on the other end of the call?! Besides, it makes panhandling a little less boring.)

So, yes, the homeless are ignored. However, I am happy to say I now have a home. Can you believe the VA has finally come through?!

NOTE: My next article will cover the debacle in Syria. Stay tuned!

Sunday, March 25, 2018

#LasVegasShooting: The #StephenPaddock Video

For those who have not seen it, here is the video supposedly given to the New York Times by MGM:


So  many things are wrong with it, beginning with the fact that we only see a half-dozen time stamps. The rest of the information is provided for us by an unknown narrator. How do we know "Stephen Paddock" drove to his home twice? Because the narrator said so? How do we know he went to the Ogden and staked out another concert? Because the narrator said so? 

Why is he wearing the same clothing throughout the video except for one time when he was wearing a white pullover instead of a grey one? "Stephen Paddock" did not have any other clothes? Not even when he allegedly made two trips to his home? Why did he suddenly decide to wear a ball cap on the day of the shooting? 

I would also like to know if the FBI in Las Vegas is trying to convince us that the hammer was used to break the windows? I am intrigued by all of the tiny pieces of glass all in a nice little pile next to the window. Why is the pile inside the room? Why is it all in one place? If the FBI is going to say the glass was blown inward, the glass should be spread out over the carpet, not sitting there like someone took a jar full of glass bits and poured them out on the rug.

Finally, where is the supporting documentation? Where are the key card logs? Where are the receipts showing when "Stephen Paddock" rented the two rooms? And, nothing on the video explains the room service receipt we have showing dinner for two people. Who was the second person? Did Marylou Danley ever appear? Her fingerprints were allegedly found on some of the ammunition. 

Let us take a look at how someone could break the windows at the Mandalay Bay:



By the way, why are the drapes closed? Would a shooter want to fight with them as he reloads and/or switches weapons? 

But let us answer the question of how someone could have broken those windows (because we definitely know they were broken). I have come across one possibility, oddly enough thanks to my extra-curricular reading rather than focused research. Some ammunition is made using tungsten carbide, otherwise known as armor-piercing bullets. The use of such ammunition can be dangerous; given the right load, it can ignite and cause fire:



A note to gun control advocates: It is already illegal to sell this ammunition, and it is not widely available. Yet it seems "Stephen Paddock" purchased these bullets in Arizona:


In my opinion, this answers the question of how he broke the windows. Remaining are all of the other questions, many of which I answered in my original article on the subject and which were supported in the video posted at the bottom of the post:


One piece remains. Were there helicopters firing on the crowd that night? I find that extremely difficult to believe. Tactically it would be a nightmare to conceal. However, I may have found one answer to the reports from some witnesses that they saw gunfire from the helos. Are any of my readers familiar with the Ghost Army?


If, as Mike Closer and I assert, the shooting was cover for an assassination, it is entirely possible special effects might have been used in order to distract from the real action. Obviously I cannot prove this theory (yet), but it makes more sense than firing live ammunition from helicopters that are impossible to conceal. 

The following link contains some footage of what is being described as muzzle flashes from a helicopter:


It simply makes no sense, especially in this day and age of camera phones (not to mention the shooting occurred in a tourist town where everyone has a camera and/or video recorder). I could be wrong, but fake gunfire is a possibility that should be explored if we are to be thorough.

More as events warrant.





Monday, February 19, 2018

The Crazy Road to Lackland

[The following is a true story, but identities have been concealed. I left out a few minor details, but otherwise this is a complete recounting of one beautiful day in Dallas in November, 1978.]

I was barely 17 when I enlisted in the military. I was so proud when I took my oath on induction day; I was in the Air Force! Wide-eyed, with stars in my eyes, I looked forward to arriving at basic training and playing the game my father warned me about for the next six weeks.

Ten other people were sitting in the reception area awaiting our travel instructions when someone called my name. I jumped up and went over to the woman's desk. She pushed a map toward me and said, “You are in charge of getting these people to Lackland.”

I was incredulous. “Me?! Are you sure?” I looked around the room. “I am the youngest person here!”

She looked at the paper in front of her. “Is your name Smith?”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“You're it. Go straight to the airport, and make sure everyone stays inside once you arrive.”

In a state of shock I took the map, studied it for a minute, then led everyone to the street and headed toward DFW Airport, falling back so I could keep an eye on everyone. One of the recruits fell in next to me and introduced himself.

“Hi, my name is Mark. So, how does it feel to be in charge?”

“Terrifying!”

He smiled. “Why is that?”

I said, “There are ten of you and one of me. If everyone decides to take off running in ten different directions, how am I supposed to catch them all?”

Mark laughed. “This is a volunteer military, so I don't think you have to worry about that. Although, someone might give you a problem.”

I was so relieved at his comment that I missed the caveat.

We arrived at the terminal around noon, but our flight did not take off until after eight. I looked around at the expectant faces and said, “Well, we have eight hours before the plane leaves, and I don't see any reason for us to sit here staring at each other singing 'Kumbaya'...” (Mark snickered) “...so as long as everyone stays in the airport...” (Mark nodded forcefully) “...you can go to the gift shop, get something to eat, whatever you want to do, and we will all meet back here at 5:00.” That was still ridiculously early in my mind, but my father had drilled into me the need to leave early for everything so that, in the event nuclear war suddenly broke out, we would still get where we were going on time.

Little did I know just how wise that advice would turn out to be.

I wandered around the airport, stopped and ate a slice of pizza, wandered around some more, and finally wound my way back to the terminal. At five o'clock I did a head count. Nine. One person was missing, but I was not terribly concerned because I am extremely time-conscious and I realize not everyone is, so I decided to give it until 5:30, which is exactly what I told Mark when he inquired.

Staring at the clock, I waited expectantly. When five-thirty rolled around, I stood up.

“Does anyone know who is missing?”

Silence.

My stomach dropped to the ground. While I had been counting heads, I had failed to note names and faces. Now, here I was with my you-know-what hanging out with no information to go on. I was screwed.

After an interminable pause, Mark stepped away from the group. Despite my predicament, I remember being struck by his military bearing and thinking how great he was going to be once he got out of Lackland. (Readers who have caught on at this point may commence laughing.)

“Ma'am, the person you are looking for is John Denton. You were actually talking to him earlier. He is six feet tall, wearing green fatigues.”

(How did I miss green fatigues?)

I still did not remember John, but I nodded in acknowledgment. I was already humiliated enough.

“Alright. We are going to break up into groups.” I paired everyone off, and assigned each team an area. I realized this was an exercise in futility; the chances of finding one man at DFW (assuming he was even in the airport) were sub-zero, but I could not stand there doing nothing.

Mark spoke up again. “Ma'am, if it's alright with you, I would prefer to stick with you. I might be able to be of assistance.”

I paused for a second. I had already lost one person. I was not about to lose another one, so the idea of sending one person out alone was not appealing to me. But, Mark had been helpful thus far, so reluctantly I agreed, telling everyone to meet back at the terminal in an hour.

We split up and Mark and I tried paging John. When that did not work, Mark suggested we go up a staircase nearby and search that area. When we hit the landing, I sent him right, I went left, and we began a door-by-door search. I was in a (barely) controlled state-of-panic, but I had worked search-and-rescue while I was a police explorer, so I knew what to do.

It seemed like just a minute before I hear my name being called. I turned and Mark was summoning me. I ran over to him and he led me around a corner, stopping in front of a door.

“He's in here.”

I looked around for a sign, but I did not see one.

“What is this?”

“It's a bar. John is drunk, and he is refusing to get on the plane.”

I was thunder-struck. Volunteer military, remember?

“Whyyyy?”

“It seems John got into a little legal trouble and the judge gave him a choice between jail and the military. He chose the military, and now he has changed his mind.”

I was speechless. A thousand things were going through my mind. As I continued to stare at him, Mark continued. “You do realize how serious this is?”

“Yes. If he does not go to Lackland he is AWOL, and I am in deep shit.”

“True. But do you know John has been AWOL since 5:00?”

“Nooooooooooo...!”

He said, “Listen! Whether you know it or not, when you told everyone to be back at the terminal by five, that was a direct order! John has been AWOL for almost an hour now.”

I stared at him in disbelief, but every word he spoke rang true. There was just something very authoritative about him. (Yeah, I know.) My wheels spun, and in about five seconds I said, “OK. I have an idea, but I am only 17. Can I even go in there?”

“Yes. You can go in. You just cannot drink.”

“OK. Follow my lead.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Just follow my lead.” I started toward the door, then turned back around. “And, whatever you do, do not blow my cover.”

Mark gave me a concerned look, but he followed me inside. I swept the bar and no one was there. Mark pointed at a booth. I locked onto John, and about halfway there I completely changed my demeanor. John was staring at his drink when I approached.

“Hiya, John. Whatcha doin'?”

“Having a drink,” he mumbled.

“Mind if we join you?”

He half-heartedly pointed at the seat across from him, and we slid in.

“Whatcha drinkin'?”

“A Cuba Libra.”

“What's a Cuba Libra?”

Mark answered, “It's a rum and coke. Cuba Libra is spanish for 'Free Cuba'.”

The waitress arrived at the table. “What can I get for you?”

Without missing a beat, I looked up and replied, “I'll have a Cuba Libra.”

I diverted my gaze and stared at the back of the booth with my best poker face because, not only was I afraid of being carded but, I expected...and received...the look Mark gave me.

It was filled with daggers.

Begrudgingly, he ordered the same, but his tone and facial expression made it clear he was not happy, and I knew he was now watching me like a hawk. The drinks came, and I took a small sip.

“Hmmm. Not bad. I've never had one of these before.” I took another sip, looked over at John, and said, “So, what's wrong?”

It all came gushing out. For the next five minutes he carried on about how the military was going to be like prison, he couldn't do it, he didn't want to do it, blah, blah. I let him go until he fell silent. Then I said, “But, John. From what I understand, you are looking at six months in prison, right?”

He nodded.

“Basic training is only six weeks, and it is not what the real military is like. They will call you every name in the book, talk about your mother and your sister, and all you have to do is let it go right over your head. It's a game..” I held my hands out in the form of a balancing scale. “Six months. Six weeks. Come on. You can do anything for six weeks.” Which was not entirely true, but I was trying to make a sale.

I waited for a minute, but I could see John was not convinced. I reached across the table and lightly touched his hand. “Look. I don't know if we will be able to communicate, but if we can and you need help, I will do whatever I can to help you. OK? I don't want to see you go to jail. Will you just do it for me? Please?”

Slowly, John met my gaze. He sat there for a moment, then slowly nodded. “OK. I guess. For you.” Relieved, I looked at Mark. He tapped his watch, but I had been looking. 6:30. Time to go.

We got up. Mark settled the bill, and we made our way back to the terminal with John zig-zagging all the way. When we arrived, he fell into the nearest chair, damned near knocking it over.

I said, “Man, he is gone.”

Mark looked at me matter-of-factly. “You do realize they will not let him board if they know he is drunk?”

No, I knew so such thing! Here I was, patting myself on the back for a job-well-done, and now I get another curve ball! I stared at him, incredulous.

In answer to my unspoken question, Mark nodded. “FAA regulations. They will not let him on the plane if they think he is intoxicated.”

I could not believe what I was hearing. I was seventeen-years-old; how was I supposed to know FAA regulations?!

With no time to spare, my wheels spun again, and about five seconds later I had devised a plan.

“OK. I have an idea, but I cannot pull it off. Who is the sturdiest female we have?”

To his credit, this time Mark did not bother to ask me what I planned. He pointed at a woman. “Probably Mary.” I looked her over and was not convinced, but she would have to do. I called her over and, as she approached, I felt a little better; she looked more muscular close-up. I explained the situation.

Impatiently, with more than a little sarcasm, she asked, “What do you want me to do about it?” Ordinarily I would have addressed her attitude but, in the interest of time, I let it go.

“You know those couples you see in shopping malls and stuff, hanging onto each other and clinging as if they will die if they let go?”

“Yeah.”

I put on my brightest face and my biggest grin. “How would you like to be John's girlfriend?”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mark suppress a grin, but I was honed in on Mary whose look made it clear she did not appreciate the genius of my plan.

She replied indignantly, “I'm married.”

Keeping my same, bright-eyed expression I said, “I didn't order you to marry the man.”

That did it. Mark had just taken a swig of coffee and, in his attempt to keep from laughing, began to choke on it. Two men, just to the left of us, jumped to their feet in unison to help him, but Mark waved them off. As he began to recover, I maintained my focus on Mary.

I said, “It's acting. Weren't you ever in a school play?”

“Of course.”

“OK, then.” I repeated, “It's acting. I would do it myself, but look at him and look at me.” (At the time, I weighed all of 110 pounds.) “If he stumbles, we are both going to hit the floor. I need someone sturdy, and you are it.”

Mark was looking at me with a very amused expression in his eyes and I thought I saw just a hint of respect. In contrast, Mary breathed in slowly while continuing to glare at me.

After a moment, she said, “Alright. I'll do it. But if touches anything, I am going to deck him.”

I pleaded, “Just remember. It is acting.”

So, with the plan in place, Mary went over to John and filled him in. When the boarding call came, Mark suggested we stay back in the line so we could make sure John got boarded. As I watched, his hand started creeping down Mary's back, and under my breath I said, “She is going to hit him....”

And, sure as shit, right when they got to the stewardess, John tripped.

I stopped breathing, but Mary did her job and leaned back into him, bringing him upright. The attendant handed them their boarding passes, and they walked down the ramp together.

He was aboard.

I had only flown one other time but I loved it, so I found my seat and settled in for a nice, relaxing, one-hour flight to San Antonio.

Unfortunately, John had other ideas.

Mark's seat assignment was somewhere else on the plane, but suddenly he appeared and asked my seatmate if he would mind exchanging seats. The man agreed and Mark sat down.

“I hope this is OK. We've gone this far; I thought it would be nice if we took the flight together.”

“Sure! That's fine.”

Suddenly, before we had even left the gate, I heard John's voice from about eight rows behind us, hassling the stewardesses for a drink. At this point, I understood he was in danger of being thrown off the plane.

I was also tired of this shit.

I yanked off my seat belt and, trying not to draw more attention, placed my knees in the seat and leaned over the back. I tried to flag John down, but he was too busy searching the cabin for a flight attendant, so I got the attention of a guy about three rows in front of him.

“Get him,” I requested in as low a voice as I could. He did, and when John and I locked eyes I hissed, “Sit down!” He immediately did so, and I followed up with, “Now, shut up!”

I turned back around, fell back into my seat, angrily slapped the seat belt back on, and took a deep breath. I looked over at Mark, who was perusing a magazine and taking everything in, but who was not reacting to it visibly.

I said, “You know, you would have thought I shot him the way he dropped back into his chair.”

Mark replied, “He thought you were going to be nice like you were in the bar.”

In a dead monotone I said, “That was then.”

I still held out hope I would be able to enjoy the flight, but it was not to be. No sooner were we airborne than I heard John trying to get a drink from anyone who passed by. Then, about midway through the trip he announced to the entire cabin,

I. Said. I. Want. A. Rum. And. Coke. !”

I was so frustrated I pinched the top of my nose, closed my eyes, and just started slowly shaking my head back-and-forth.

(How did I get myself into this?)

In a subdued tone, Mark asked, “Are you planning to do anything about that?”

I was not angry with Mark. I was just fed up with the situation. In a stern tone I answered, “Look. My orders were to get him to San Antonio. His ass is going to San Antonio. If he arrives in handcuffs, that's his problem.”

To which Mark calmly replied, “OK. But if the pilot radios ahead and the police meet the plane, and John goes to jail, he doesn't get to Lackland, and that's your problem.”

Out of sheer exhaustion, I exhaled sharply and dropped my head to my chest.

Mark laughed sympathetically and said, “Tell you what. Why don't you let me take a shot at this?”

My head snapped up. “Are you sure? It is my responsibility.”

Mark nodded. “You've had enough. I think what is needed here is a fresh voice.”

I watched him as he walked back to John and whispered something in his ear. Obviously I could not hear what was said, but John's eyes got as big as saucers and was suddenly sitting ramrod straight. When Mark returned I asked him what he said.

Offhandedly he answered, “I just reminded him what was at stake.”

I was still curious, but I was too tired to pursue the matter.

Later, when we reached the in-processing center, Mark disappeared for a while. He eventually returned with a clipboard containing an after action report to fill out. I was completely sapped of energy, so it never even occurred to me to ask why he was acting as a go-between. He disappeared again and, as I sat there waiting, the almost total silence was broken by loud, boisterous laughter coming from the back of the hangar. The crazy thought crossed my mind that they were laughing about my exploits at the airport, but I was spent. I curled up in my seat and was asleep before my head hit my knees.

Epilogue

I never saw Mark again, and I have often wondered what became of him. For those who have yet to catch on, Mark was no recruit. He was likely an officer, and I place him somewhere around the rank of major. As for John, word got back to me that he washed out of Basic after two weeks. Presumably, he went to jail. The courts long since have abandoned that ridiculous program.

And, I am happy to report that everything Lackland had in store for me paled in comparison to that day.


End

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