Category Archives: Intelligence Community

Counterintel Vultures vs Crux Kryptos

img_20181106_161114606~2680542546020761479..jpg

The locals call these guys turkey buzzards, which buzz around big as wild turkeys. I just call them vultures. I’ve seen as many as seventy in a “kettle” (as if swirling in a kettle up in the sky) above an active landfill that handles household garbage. But in the midst of the back forest ridges near the hermitage on any day off  I might see just a few on the road, like bandits. They’ve been here at the exact same spot on the gravel one-lane hermitage mountain road near the waterfall for the seven or eight years I’ve been driving this road, never with road kill, just owning the place. They’ll move just off the road for a vehicle that dares approach them. I’ve wondered what they would do if I were walking alone on the road and acted with timidity, skittish, hesitant, backing up a step, and then another. What I don’t have to wonder about is that acting with confidence is 99% of any success in dealing with any would-be adverse encounter, and can pretty much control any outcome. Bravely walk up to these monsters and they’ll run away.

Dealing with the dark side is one thing. Quite another is dealing with human beings who are not perceptive to mind tricks, but are instead wasted on drugs, especially the drug of, say, counterintel, and it is a drug, with all the same effects, unless… And, by the way, we’re all lost to mind games on every level of our lives, unless… unless we have a constant which cuts through all mind games, that which is more powerful than mind games, more powerful than anything we hold dear in this world, including life here. That Constant is the Cross. Love, like Wisdom, cuts through idiocy. The world spins about while the Cross remains a constant.

Solving Kryptos – Part 4 – Coriolis effect – Crux stat dum volvitur orbis

Kryptos 1

Don’t be lost to a palimpsestic faith. Truth is Love is God, ever ancient, ever new, always the same, always full of Life. Our thinking that we can edit Truth, edit Love, edit Life is where all our shattered ways bring darkness. In our stupidity, we think that spreadsheeting analysis of stats based on fallen human nature takes account of all reality and is the key to unlocking mysteries. Pffft. Soooo NOT. When it comes to Truth who is Love who is Life, so that we walk with Truth, with Love, with Life, then it’s no longer an iffy confidence manipulating success 99% of the time, then there is success 100% of the time, with success not being measured in this world, but by being drawn into eternal life.

There’s no greater joy before the angels of heaven than when…

Didn’t expect that, did you?

;-)

 

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Filed under Intelligence Community, Nature

CIA offer of invite for assignment to Vatican? Or not. Teenage nostalgia.

just me 04

Always happy to be humint-baited about my teenage years. One of my major faults if not sins (among so many of so many kinds on so many levels) is to be terribly and exaggeratedly and perhaps unhelpfully nostalgic as instigated by anyone who wants to send me down memory lane. Skills in analysis that I began to gain in my teenage years and which have developed more recently are fun to use on those teenage memories.

But why would anyone be interested to humint-bait me about my pre-graduation from high school teenage years? Of a sudden there is more than just a little interest. I have had quite a number of people contact me to tell me about how they’ve been interrogated about me, always with the verbatim question, a spotlight shining brightly on my high school years. Hmm? What could that be about more than forty some years later (now late 2018)? I mean, seriously. Is this an inquisition in the style of the one that was intended to bring down Justice Brett Kavanaugh, something about beer and orgies? Or is it something good natured (a vetting) or even more nefarious? It’s just another one of the many thousands of super weird events of this kind over the decades.

As long time readers will recall, one person it seems representing a number of others weirdly and out of nowhere recently threatened to sue me if I put up the picture at the top of this article, a picture of my own self with my own mom (RIP) and my own dad (RIP) in my own home during my own teenage years. I think I’ve had possession of that picture for something like more than forty years. I’m guessing a copy of that picture was made back in the day when my “Shadow” (the person who stole my identity back then) was trying to pass himself off as me, you know, with me having a clean record, permitting him to travel also internationally without being imprisoned (until he was thrown in maximum security prison in Mexico and then “miraculously” sprung for “no reason”). Perhaps it is thought that the picture proves I’m really me and that I actually existed before any “assignment” by the CIA, the object of the baiting. My Shadow, mind you, is my age and looks like me. Sigh.

Anyway, permit a couple of points to be made before beginning this rather labyrinthine if not serpentine walk down memory lane. As I say, when it comes to nostalgia, I’m perhaps too happy to oblige.

  • Recall, if you would, the one I call my Shadow, who took over my identity in my teenage years (Hey! Maybe that‘s what this is about!), that he continues to be protected in doing so by Main State and the FBI, who went out of their way to let him entrench under my real identity for the sake of his arms transfers to cartels under my name even while they offered me an alternative identity so as to make me disappear from the face of the earth (and therefore no longer be a priest, that is, when I found out about all this after my ordination from Main State) as part of the perpetual interdepartmental program I had already been put on by Main State for many years. Recall that I didn’t take them up on the offer. Anyway, one more thing:
  • I had a mentor in my teenage years, a good friend I speak about below. Well, as I find out only now as I write this post, it seems that he may have been “disappeared.” He’s one of those who, young, in absolutely perfect health, suffered a “heart attack,” which is the usual way for “The Company” to send the message to the world that someone has died and can therefore be forgotten about, but who is still alive and is simply re-tasked somewhere else after a job well done. I was only confronted with this information about his death while writing this post, that is, while researching the humint-baiting of myself about my teenage years since this past April 2018 when I was put on the DARPA-COMPASS program. It wasn’t long after that that the famous phrase was put before me: “The first thing you have to know about me is that I would never intentionally commit suicide.”

spy vs spy

So, let’s start with “The Question” that was humint-baited about me. The first I myself heard “The Question” was while discussing with my filling out untold numbers of forms regarding CIA matters with a certain someone. He posed “The Question” in the midst of that discussion and immediately integral to it, without skipping a beat – the seemingly out-of-the-blue question posed to me and later to many others in various ways but always quite exactly the same, virtually verbatim, concerning just how it is that (1) I got an offer (2) to be invited (3) to be assigned (4) to the Vatican (5) by those about whom we were speaking in quite the intense fashion, obviously, namely, those at “The Company”.

That’s a question which, even if it had anything to do with reality, is not a question for which an answer can be given, not even to an agent, whether of “The Company”, the FBI, or any of our other intelligence, military and law enforcement entities. The answer would have to prefaced with the old aphorism:

“If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you, and in saying that, I’ve already said too much, so I’ll have to kill you even without telling you.”

That’s said just for humor, for all of this is, to me, rather humorous, at least inasmuch as any assignment by the CIA is nothing that I know anything about. But if it were true at all, well… then just recall the scene at the CIA canteen between the then analyst “Maya” and the then Director of the CIA:

Things get compartmentalized and are on a need to know basis such that even the Director is to be shielded from such information. Knowledge can come back to bite you. In my case, a request for unmasking (unwittingly dealing more with my “Shadow” than myself) would not be honored except with an investigation as to why it is that such a request was made for the summaries kept only by the Director or the Secretary of State. So, if the question cannot be asked, why ask that question? Yet, that very specific question has been repeated ad nauseam to me and others who have nothing to do with anything. It’s the involvement of those others that’s a bit weird. And the insistence.

The short answer to the question is this: I may have come to know really a lot of CIA crowd, agents and assets, male and female, young and old, active and retired, supervisors or in the field or otherwise, on whatever levels, across the decades and in so many countries and diverse situations, but I vigorously and categorically deny that I have ever worked as a salaried employee of The Company. In filling out untold numbers of forms over time, its not like I myself used them for the ends intended (but no fraud!); for me they were more like the recreation one might have in creating a counterintelligence product. Sure, I’ve been asked to be a spy, sometimes nicely, sometimes with a bit of extortion, sometimes with caginess, sometimes overtly, sometimes playing on my patriotism, sometimes with threats, by some of the more desperate agents in countries and in situations which afforded access to me but not to them when all was at risk. But I was only a seminarian and then a priest trying to do my best to follow Jesus. I don’t think any of that means I was invited to be assigned, blah blah blah. I think people may be confused about me and my “Shadow.” Whatever.

Mind you, I chuckle, loving this question about being “assigned.” Nostalgia is lovely. And mind you, the repeated yet discretely asked and appropriately timed “Question” does NOT so much regard any assignment or any results as much as how any assignment came about. And that necessarily transports me back into a time previous to any such assignment. The interest right now is not in what I did after any assignment, but what was going on that brought about any assignment. Get the logic?

Considering when I first went to Rome, this would bring me back into the mid-1970s, when I was still in high school, before I really knew much of anything about any seminary anywhere, though I made no big secret of my thinking about becoming a priest.

The question, moreover, isn’t so much about me as about those who were preparing to make any such assignment. “The Question” seeks my own personal assessment, not of me, but of those offering any such an invitation for me to receive any such assignment: How is it that any such an assignment came about? My assessment of any such decision of others… That’s what’s sought with “The Question.”

FBI West Palm Beach FL

As it is, those who are to be assigned early on are, in fact, analyzed right through high school. Lots of “Company” men and women have been recruited out of high school or soon thereafter, not only the lady who found UBL, but also “The Mechanic” of this parish, a friend [USA’s “Mechanic” died: USAF CIA U2 rockets missiles. Catholic. (*Not* FBI)]. After the USAF plucked him out of his junior year in high school, and after he later so aced the FBI exams that they were afraid of him, the CIA – having no fear of a genius – snatched him up. It’s these kind of people that make “The Company” a temptation as a kid. But temptations don’t have to be followed.

Anyway, it’s not that “the Company” and the FBI have always shared information, but I would have been on the radar generally speaking already in high school for any number of reasons. This list of possible hits on a radar for candidates is my way of answering “The Question.” This is just a quick list. I’m sure I could add lots more pertinent things. But this is a start.

So, here’s the longer version of the short answer:

north junior high school

  • As I’ve written about previously at length, years before high school I was an unwitting victim of the kiddy porn industry, that is, a victim in what was surely the biggest porn operation in history, generating a near infinity of pictures, and an unimaginable multitude of professionally produced films. To this day I have not heard anything that has even come near to what happened. That’s saying a lot. My dad, finding out that I had been in the car of the boss-man immediately tried to do something about it. It was a pretty fierce night for him on the phone followed by some pretty fierce anger in the following weeks, not with me, but with the whole situation. This would certainly have been an FBI investigation in which I was named as someone needing protection. Talk about being on the radar though for a weird reason.

cadillac limousine

  • My dad was mayor of the city I grew up in. He was top attorney in the entire region of the state, building the first “sky-scraper” in that region. He was often down in the capital building and knew everyone everywhere, including the national politicians. He was close in with the FBI and often invited me as a youngster to come to meetings with the FBI, introducing me to them and making sure they knew about little me throughout my years in Junior High School, High School, and in the summers of my first half dozen years in the seminary. Talk about being on the radar, this time for a positive reason.

Dads law offices

  • Mine was not a normal high school. I was in a highfalutin filthy liberal Catholic but highly academic prep school attended by students from all over North America and from countries all over the world. And yet, in the midst of the filth and in the midst of the heresy and in the midst of the utter disrespect for the Holy Father and the Magisterium typical of the mid-1970s, amidst the trouncing of Sacred Tradition and Sacred Scripture, in the midst of horrific experimentation with Holy Mass, in the midst of a breakdown in morality by Church leaders, I was stalwart, and became the enemy of the powers that be, getting bullied and put down as naive and unsophisticated and not up to date when, alone, I would stand up for all that is good and holy and ecclesial. I would hunt down the Tridentine Masses, as they were called, in the “catacombs” below the Abbey church. I was made into an example publicly. I totally “blame” my guardian angel for this. I apologize to my guardian angel. Surely he had to work overtime with me. Surely he did more face palms because of me than even he can count. I was perhaps so persnickety about the faith because I realized just how much I was in need of the faith, especially of the confessional. That’s not being persnickety, of course. It’s doing the one thing necessary. How much better could I have done for our Lord if I had only applied myself more to the learning of the faith? How many missed opportunities? None of this was unseen by my special mentor in my Sophomore year (I had transferred into the school from elsewhere). More on my special mentor below. Being on his radar was, I think, being on another radar.

angel face palm

  • Weirdly, my out-of-confines-of-the-high-school were also on the radar of my mentor. So, what was that like? It might be thought I was a freak of sorts, in that I didn’t do the “normal” things. No drugs. No parties. No sex with either sex (though I was on occasion aggressively sought out by both [that assessment not including my girlfriend with whom I would go on long walks, long horseback rides, long car rides on the forest gravel roads, or play tennis with or just sit around and talk with, sometimes speaking about how many kids God might grace us with should we get married). But, notice the negatives: no drugs, no parties, no sex. Considering the negatives, don’t imagine that I was a paragon of virtue, which would have been a positive if it were true. I was surely like everyone else in every way except that perhaps what kept me in line was the stunning untowardness from some few, including one girl my age not from the area who admitted to being sent to me by others in order to make me fall[!]), and, as I say, untowardness from porn producers, from adult stalkers, etc. I’ve already written about my success in surviving such encounters. My non-conformity with the lowest common denominator didn’t go unnoticed. In fact, I impossibly heard about my own whereabouts from others, and my activities, and what my life was like – with much solidarity – though I was flummoxed as to how they could possibly know, and all of this in at least as much detail as I knew myself, and perhaps more. Did they know of my getting shot at on the road I lived on, on so many occasions, some dozens of bullets all told as a kid: shotgun (perhaps a dozen shells; I felt the spray) and rifle (I remember the whizzing sounds of dozens of bullets all told at that time)? I never talked about it. But they sure did make me feel loved. They marveled at my situational awareness even then. That was encouraging. Perhaps this knowledge of my private life helped others to open up to me, that is, those with suicidal ideation, quite a number. The powers that be would thank me for my efforts in these situations, particularly my special mentor. Some situations were pretty dramatic. I remember them well. Just getting nostalgic about this, I call to mind, now, some half dozen people who did not commit suicide after long and sometimes multiple conversations. I recall a couple of failures later in life in Europe and the West Bank. One killed himself so as to escape being used to kill others, a success in its own weird way I guess. Another waited ten more years to become a suicide bomber, at least that much delay, a success in its own weird way I guess. I’ve written of those elsewhere, but those last two were long after high school and so of no consequence here.
buckwheat horse

This could be a clone of my el cheapo horse “Buckwheat”, basically thrown away by his previous owner as being too independent minded for any would-be rider. We were, instead, great friends. Not a donkey, but that’s fine.

  • More of my private life was known. I found great solace in reading the Baltimore Catechism. I basically had the sections of the advanced catechisms on how to go to Confession pretty much memorized. I loved Confession. I went to Confession, a lot. I had a good confessor. Meanwhile, since preparing for Confirmation, I thought reading the Bible was super enthralling. For instance, I spent many weeks, actually, months on end, immersed in a mania of artistically depicting scenes of the Apocalypse with comprehensive exactitude. I showed those to some. Diversely, at school, I was one of the best amateur potters in the region, immediately getting an audience when I sat down at a wheel, even doing on demand performances of “throwing” pots in mere seconds. The school itself gave me truckloads of stuff to help me build my own hermitage so as do some serious reading, writing, drawing. I would get on my fastest of all fast horses known to anyone (which we got really cheap – almost for free – since he was ornery and small) – bareback (he was barrel-backed) mind you – and go chasing around the countryside and forests and hills and dales, around lakes, into lakes, miles and miles and miles. This was sometimes done with those from school, sometimes with my girlfriend, sometimes on my own. Or I would go out on a dirt bike, practicing climbing super steep ridges without letting the engine choke out, also sometimes with others from school. Long rifle sharp shooting (not super successful) from both over super rough terrain, in and through trees and thickets, over fences. Nothing interesting here. But people were interested. Again, and this was kind of weird, they let me know about it. As I say, it seems someone who knew me well wanted others to show me lots of love. They would come up to me in all solidarity, like, once a week like clockwork, one after another within a day or two, until the next week. And then it would all be repeated. I wonder if that was my special mentor doing all that. He carried really a lot of weight with everyone at school. Much appreciated, I guess. More on my rather special mentor below.

euclid school of athens

  • I would also think, a lot. I would spend hours on end, days, forgetting about time, training myself to think while sleeping (this works great and I’ve kept up this practice), trying, at the time, to figure out what are considered impossible mathematical conundrums, and then afterwards, taking a break, going golfing or sailing with a friend in my class to talk about these same mathematical impossibilities (before my junior year in high school) which he, also on his own and without me knowing about it, had been working on in the same exact ways, including purposely dreaming about them at night so as to come up with hypotheses that had to be tested during the day on paper. That was a revelation. I wasn’t alone. But it was only us two. But I guess it was all “normal.” That turned what was a challenge into great fun. Well, that was true until a math prof in junior year gave us an end-of-the-world exam about which he warned us every class for six weeks (class being four times a week), at which he wrote out three super complex equations in the air, not on the board, describing them orally, and we had to figure out what he was doing while he wrote out in the air all the square roots and divisions and letters and multiplications and more letters and rubbish of all sorts with parentheses or not. He did this three times and called on me all three times. I got them all right. He made an example of me publicly. Not sure why. Was it my special mentor at work behind the scenes getting him to do this? They all worked for him. He just about didn’t make it out of the classroom alive as everyone was so angry with him for the reason that I was deathly sick at the time. I was made an example of a lot. Even if that all proved to me that “I could do it”, it all nevertheless turned me off from doing math. But I’m sure that wasn’t the intended result. I was instead much more interested in counterintel, of all things because of my special mentor. Who is he, you ask?

PROMETHEUS

  • My psych exams over a lifetime must have also been pretty wild. I’ve had heaps of zillion-question psych exams since my youngest days back in the 1960s. “These are experimental psych exams”, they said. “I’m in,” I said. “You don’t have to do them,” they said. “I’m in,” I said. Even as a tiny little kid I was quite self-aware and without being able to put a name on it, I was quite into counterintel, suspicious of what what being asked. The first exams were, I think, in fourth grade and sixth grade. I never liked manipulation. I suppose that was seen by the writers of the exam and its earliest reviewers of results. I was forever being put in classes for “gifted students” since I was a little kid. We were “special” as we were always told, so, whatever. ;-) I kept taking versions of these zillion question exams. My special mentor continued giving such exams to us. He simply couldn’t get over what these said about my leadership qualities. He took me on as his special project, wanting to encourage some rather peculiar leadership skill sets, for which I was, impossibly, 11.2 on a 1-10 scale in the most recent set of zillion question exams. My mentor and I would have ferocious in depth conversations in which he would elicit my advice about whatever different sets of circumstances he would put before me, a baiting-training in for counterintel. The scenarios were progressively wildly complex, with, for instance, seemingly innocuous details which came to be of central importance. He was really good at bringing me from one step to the next, quite happy when I learned how to be multiple steps ahead of him, stepping back, able to survey what was going on, turning the tables and putting him under pressure. Ha ha! I loved this kind of challenge, formation, mentoring. These conversations would go on for hours on golf courses, often having us stop dead in the middle of a fairway, or on a green, or sandtrap, explaining, arguing, refining appraisals of perspectives of characters in the scenarios who were, perhaps, not so imaginary, but rather people he had to deal with. He even came out with names once in a while. One scenario was, apparently, deadly, deadly, deadly serious, and he almost quit after we teed off on the first of our 18 hole extravaganza that day. But he got it. Those were heady days. I’m sure I was tempted to outrageous arrogance because of this. But these experiences did bring me into an entirely different universe of dealing with people.

rifle

  • My mentor once wrote about me in a certain famous letter that should I end up in Rome where I would be able to survey fully the state of the Church and the world, in having a choice before me, I would likely be drawn to a life choice that would allow me to put into play other skill sets he saw within me, those being perfect, he thought, for counterintel. As another example of his attitude, he singled me out in front of the entire junior and senior classes (some hundreds of students together), saying that I alone among all of them could resist manipulation, hypnotism, subterfuge (in a word: intel, counterintel), turning the tables. There was just absolutely no way that I could be brought down, he said. Most just took that in. Some congratulated me, but still just took that judgment upon themselves. Some others so very angrily objected to being categorized as being such pushovers that they proved his point with all these others. As I looked around the assembly hall at the reactions of my fellow students, typical of me, I instantaneously thought of this as yet another of his counterintel “products” also for me, and therefore also noticing my own reactions both to him and to the other students. That any footprint of his upon the earth was entirely erased after I graduated is rather distressing. I have offered many prayers for him, many Masses for him. Try to find out if he ever existed, and there’s nothing. I heard a rumor once that perhaps he died. The FBI and Main State would attempt to do that “perhaps” thing with me when I got to be his age (the whole alternative identity thing that I didn’t request). I resisted, in Rome, contrary to what my mentor had predicted. Or is what I did at that time another counterintel “product”, you know, because nothing is as it seems? ;-)

Anyway, to repeat the question:

Just how it is that (1) I got an offer (2) to be invited (3) to be assigned (4) to the Vatican (5) by those about whom we were speaking, obviously, namely, those at “The Company”.

I would have thought that much more interesting would be how anything like any of that would play out over in Rome. That’s for another post, a story over the years full of spies and counterspies and such. Mind you, in this post nothing much was said about me being cover for my “Shadow.” Let’s just say that the more I’ve been involved in whatever way with terrorism and coups and shady people of all sorts on whatever side of things, the easier it is for my “Shadow” to continue to entrench under my name. It is what it is.

Anyway, that’s all kind of the answer to “The Question,” I’m sure creating more questions than answering anything whatsoever. But that’s the murky world of murkiness of the darkest of existential peripheries in which many live their entire lives as if that were somehow normal.

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Filed under Holy See, Intelligence Community, Patriotism, Politics

Fr Byers, the FBI investigated you how many times? We want files! My real ID

cia memorial

High pressure repeated request from [ex-?]CIA guy who’s now […] as cover:

“Father Byers, the FBI investigated you how many times? We want files! Who are you, anyway?”

This has been going on for months. Lots of pressure. I really have to give an answer. I’m forced into it. Interesting question. Baiting. Just to see which investigations I know about, if I know what my ID really is. This is always fun, so let’s set out to have some fun! ;-)

Short answer: Who am I? I’m just a POS. But (now speaking to the [ex-?]CIA guy), you tell me. How many FBI investigations? Lol. A lot! I mean, I don’t know. I guess this FBI investigation thing is getting to be a fad with SCOTUS Justice Brett Kavanaugh having undergone fully seven investigations. Which makes me wonder what I myself wrote in year books when I was a kid… I think it was something like “Most likely to become POTUS” for a friend. Ooooo! A national security issue! For a girl I think I wrote: “Most likely to get accepted to Harvard.” She was a brainiac with math. Anyway, I’m guessing I’ve had more FBI investigations than Justice Kavanaugh. But exactly how many times? Great question. Maybe just one, as in lifelong and continuous. And if I could “view” those “files” that would be great! But whoever heard of the one investigated being in charge of the files about himself in FBI repositories or in those famous “ongoing cases”? I’ve been wanting to see all those all my life. Good luck with that. Share them with me when you have them. I myself want to know what agents knew and when, just how much they let the “small” things go, you know, so as to go after the “big fish”, so that then, when push came to shove, those “big fish” were never taken down, you know, for political reasons. If that’s the case.

Anyway…  It’s an incomplete and therefore inadequate question. Just the FBI? Go ahead and include the CIA (“Dedicatio par aevum” memorial pictured up top) and DEA and BATFE and DHS and ICE and TSA and, most importantly, the Department of State, that is, Main State, and a dozen plus other of our agencies and institutes and groups and such. In fact, include all those groups who were subpoenaed but who refused to answer the questions of Jason Chaffetz’s congressional investigation into Fast and Furious. Jason was ignored even though he was Congressional Chairman of Oversight. So, good luck with that, especially since I’ve been told by Main State that anything related to me has long been destroyed, the normal practice upon being placed into a perpetual interdepartmental program. Go ahead and ask for it? Just know you might be asked, with polygraph, why you’re asking. Could be a career ending move, or send you to prison.

My rap sheet: No felonies. No misdemeanors. Ever. Nothing pending. Nothing ever having been pending. No courts. No settlements. And nothing having been “wiped” from the record. Well… There are some things that may have disappeared from my rap sheet as one sheriff told me when I asked him about it – disappeared things such as being pulled over for not wearing a seat belt when I was constantly starting and stopping to deliver meals to the home-bound for the soup kitchen. The cop admitted later that he ticketed me for purely political reasons. Anyway, that citation was, like, seven years ago. I found out that no one knew enough to grant permission about the statute at the time that permitted no usage of a seat belt in such conditions of constant service deliveries with permission. I can recall other times getting pulled over, like when my sister was teaching me to drive when I was twelve years old and I ran a trick stop sign that was posted inches behind a light pole so that it couldn’t be seen. Other occasions do come to mind. For instance, I remember I was going a little fast – like 5 miles over – in making the 1000+ mile trip to my dying dad’s bedside some decades ago. You get the idea.

A longer than short answer:  I guess it would take an autobiography to even scratch the surface. I’ve had a pretty wild life. There was a time when I’m guessing that for a short while I was a most researched person in these USA. But, what do I know? That’s just a guess judging from the blog stats of hits from named and therefore not much secured servers of pretty much every intelligence HQ in these USA and around the world. You know the drill: USAIC, NNIC, DHS, DOD, DOJ, BATFE, IRS[!], SSA[!], FBI, CIA, Interpol, The Hague[!], etc., in so many centers for each all around, making the stats fly, scrolling quickly off screen, zip zip zip. I should see if I still have some screen shots from years gone by. Probably anomalous interest, right? If these were the named hits, I have to wonder what the blind hits were. It is what it is. At any rate, let me guess about a few incidents which may have instigated Federal research now and again.

  • It’s just now two years since I’ve received my concealed carry handgun permit here in NC, which has (in some cases by far) one of the more stringent series of local, state (SBI) and federal (FBI) background checks in these USA, a fact opening up NC to reciprocity in most states of these USA. North Carolina even adds what amounts to presently illegal (because of duration, many months) checks into mental health. At any rate, no records of that for me.
  • I got my Gold-Star driver licence / “Real ID” a few months ago and had to renew again just now in time for the election (good for another 8 years). This involves some pretty stringent background checks as well on Local, State and Federal levels.
  • I’ve been fingerprinted and checked all over the world, not for any particular reason, but just because I happen to be in terribly dangerous places really a lot with lots of terribly dangerous people, people who have killed really a lot of people, or who are in charge of the militaries of their countries, et al. So, it finally becomes the ol’ “Who are you anyway?” kind of thing. Sigh.

  • I’m just now gathering some dates and info and documentation so as to sign up in the near future for Global-Entry, a jacked up version of TSA pre-check which involves checks even more stringent than for the NC firearms checks. G-E involves checks against criminal and law enforcement indices (Federal, State, Local), customs, immigration, agriculture, and terrorist indices including biometric fingerprint checks and a personal interview (That‘s surely a well experienced interrogator). All the checks are not listed here. It’s a pretty long, exhaustive list. Fun!
  • Just because of past lives, as it were, I’ve recently called in some items related to financial groups and terrorism to, for instance – depending on the subject – Main State, Liberty Crossing Campus, the FBI. You can’t do such things without first being extremely thoroughly vetted by the FBI from multiple locations and on all sorts of levels. Fine. These series of checks pretty much add up to joining any of our institutes or agencies minus the polygraph. Thoroughness cannot be underestimated. Oddly, the guy taking the financial case wanted to know about terrorism. I mean, he asked about it like a half dozen times. Oh, I forgot, terrorism and financial malfeasance often go together. My bad.
  • Of course, Main State and the FBI do not put one on a perpetual interdepartmental program for no reason. Once you’re on, you’re on. That’s it, forever, as the FBI strongly insisted with me, drilling this into me. There’s no way off as there’s nothing remaining after destruction of files in order to base a new decision upon. It’s like the seal of confession. Even if the penitent gives you permission to break the seal you can’t break the seal. Someone could be putting him/her under some sort of coercion to request such a thing against his/her will (regardless of what he/she says). The information doesn’t belong to the priest. It belongs to Jesus. The same here: even if I request to get off the program I cannot do so. It’s beyond unmasking. It’s frustrating. Part of the program is to be “accompanied,” even in a terribly annoyingly obvious way, especially at airports and inside airplanes (as I was forewarned about). In analyzing this, the guy I call “The Guy,” told me that this is meant to send a message to the idiots: If you mess around with this guy you will be stopped. However annoying this can be, it’s also kinda nice. This started decades ago, perhaps when I was a teenager, in the mid-late 1970s. I need to write more about it.
  • More recently, seemingly in April of 2018, this was all jacked up a bit. I had gone to FBI ATLANTA to talk about options for that perpetual interdepartmental program mentioned above. I was delayed for some twenty minutes from approaching the security building, that is, until CTU Virginia showed up. We parked together. He accompanied me twice to the security building (as I forgot my passport and had returned to my car to get it). He delivered a printout and entered while I was told to just go to the window. That printout was given to the agent who looked at it, looked at me, looked at it, looked at me, looked at it, looked at me, set it down, shoved it toward me and said that he has no one presently there who can speak to this. I was able to read the author’s name and the provenance of the printout, DOD DARPA. Good old nerdy DARPA. They created some mathematical complexities using massive amounts of intel that they’ve categorized and turned into that which is actionable in the field for whatever “target” they have on “the list.” That, of course, makes me, again, one of the most highly researched people in the world. Huge amounts of resources are used for such targets. I regret that. I assume that this is, for me, to assist in my being “accompanied” (to use Pope Francis terminology). As I’ve written previously, I once told the guy who stole my identity that I regret the cost of such accompaniment, and he instantly cut me off to say that such costs are entirely negligible in view of the scope of the entire program.
  • I’ve been involved in one way or the other in numerous terrorist incidents, enough to be further investigated through the decades by a number of countries, including the Holy See, Italy, these USA, Australia and, with some intensity at the highest military, intelligence levels, Israel. It is what it is. Try asking for their files on me, you know, like in המוסד. Good luck with that one too. I mean, would they give you something that had nothing to do with the real file? ;-) Either way, when you get those files, share them with me! Baiting for leakers is fun! I might even find out what is held to be my real ID. This quickly disintegrates into rabbit holes of counterintel mind games until, gaslighted, one can’t remember who one is anymore:

Having been trained into counterintelligence as a teenager since the time my identity was stolen, I’ve never done the Jason Bourne thing. I never had to.

In all of this, I apologize to sincere and patriotic agents of all our military and intelligence and law enforcement agencies. I poke fun at myself. I don’t mean to poke fun at you.

Meanwhile, a personal theological note, I’m just a POS. Boring. A nothing. Nobody. In all of this poking fun (the whole “Who are you anyway?” thing) I want to make something perfectly clear: I don’t claim to be better than anyone. I’m no saint. I’m just a POS. Boring. A nothing. Nobody. Haven’t you already noticed? The original sin in which I’ve post-hoc participated, and all my own sin, is all written out in the wounds of the Divine Son of God, now risen from the dead. It’s in Him that we find our identity as redeemed and saved so as to walk in humble thanksgiving in His presence, in His friendship. That’s the ID I want to have. Jesus is the One. He’s the only One.

But you can’t get to know Jesus and know who you are, your “real ID” – Jesus’ love and truth and integrity – until you go to Confession. A lot. With sincerity. I do. That’s who I am: just another POS who goes to Confession. Why? Because I know the following and so should we all:

Psalm 139 For the leader. A psalm of David. Oh LORD, you have probed me, you know me: you know when I sit and stand; you understand my thoughts from afar. My travels and my rest you mark; with all my ways you are familiar. Even before a word is on my tongue, LORD, you know it all. Behind and before you encircle me and rest your hand upon me. Such knowledge is beyond me, far too lofty for me to reach. Where can I hide from your spirit? From your presence, where can I flee? If I ascend to the heavens, you are there; if I lie down in Sheol, you are there too. If I fly with the wings of dawn and alight beyond the sea, Even there your hand will guide me, your right hand hold me fast. If I say, “Surely darkness shall hide me, and night shall be my light” — Darkness is not dark for you, and night shines as the day. Darkness and light are but one. You formed my inmost being; you knit me in my mother’s womb. I praise you, so wonderfully you made me; wonderful are your works! My very self you knew; my bones were not hidden from you, When I was being made in secret, fashioned as in the depths of the earth. Your eyes foresaw my actions; in your book all are written down; my days were shaped, before one came to be. How precious to me are your designs, O God; how vast the sum of them! Were I to count, they would outnumber the sands; to finish, I would need eternity. If only you would destroy the wicked, O God, and the bloodthirsty would depart from me! Deceitfully they invoke your name; your foes swear faithless oaths. Do I not hate, LORD, those who hate you? Those who rise against you, do I not loathe? With fierce hatred I hate them, enemies I count as my own. Probe me, God, know my heart; try me, know my concerns. See if my way is crooked, then lead me in the ancient paths. (nab)

These days people are talking about the FBI going through the files of priests at chanceries. Great! Have at it! Get that trustworthy counterintel guy who did up personnel for the FBI before being the fall guy… what’s his face… oh yeah… Peter Strzok. So, not so great then. So…

These days people are talking about the laity going through the files. Great! Have at it! Hopefully some kind of competence is involved, like law enforcement. But people don’t like police these days. So…

These days people are talking about any and all parishioners going through the files of the priests of their parish. That would be a real hoot. I can hear it now: “Father George chose blue as his favorite color on his million question psych exam instead of yellow even though he’s got off the charts leadership skill sets (which would have to be yellow[!]). So, he’s got to be lying. But why? Meanwhile, I was thinking of Jesus’ good mom, who is depicted with blue because of the meaning of her Jewish name. That might be said to be ideological but it is sincere, and therefore not a lie. And blue is my favorite color anyway.

You want to know about my life? Have at it. But, I say, and so should we all: Jesus Christ, you are my life! Jesus is the One who is forgotten in all of this. Always forgotten. Jesus is not there in faithlessness. Jesus is not there in investigations. Jesus is not there in any solutions proposed at all. But I insist, and so should we all:

Jesus Christ: You are my life!

 

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Filed under Intelligence Community, Law enforcement, Military, Terrorism, המוסד

Deep Kryptic: FBI, Abuse, Confession. Father Byers protects RICO in Penn?

FBI Data Ret

There was a strange hit on the blog to this post: “Mandatory Reporting” of Abuse Confessed in Sacramental Confession. [Read that again!] That seems to have sparked interest in this: Missionaries of Mercy reconfirmed: New list of faculties… [Read that again!] Involved is a group which archives and protects data for – How to say it? – the entire world, as in mirroring the likes the NSA, CIA, FBI, with the latter having a shared address. They figure into the posts above.

I reckon that there are two possible explanations besides just saying that there are a million coincidences and all the stars are happenstance aligning: (1) Someone’s wondering about the ethics of storing digitally recorded sacramental confessions such as those procured by the FBI multiple times not only in prisons but also in bugged confessionals in, for instance, Saint Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City [Yep.]; (2) More likely: someone’s wanting to access those digitally recorded sacramental confessions at least as indicators of who to look at so as to get enough info to get warrants for those they didn’t know were suspect, and at the same time looking at the constitutional issues of free exercise of religion, which such recordings and research would significantly damage.

Again, it’s not that it’s not done. It is. I was personally approached by the Italian Department of Defense to agree to this very thing so that they might accomplish a kind of sting operation in southern Italy against whoever it was they were after back in the day.

Oh. Just another coincidence. The FBI has just now started a RICO investigation in Pennsylvania where our data center is at. Too bad that investigation is just about the influence of homosexualist bullying of teens instead of also about RICO style kickbacks to chanceries from risk retention groups for false accusations. Billions of dollars in that investigation, but it’s not politically correct right now. We’re now at the stage of, analogously, the Mueller investigation insisting on non-existent Russian collusion but finding (and ignoring) all the Democrat and DoJ and FBI crimes. But we’ll get there with that too, right?

The particular data site (of so very many sites globally for the same group) is some hundreds of acres, hundreds of feet below ground, in the middle of absolutely nowhere, one of the most secure places in these USA and, therefore, on earth. They brag about perimeter security, armed guards, metal detection, mantraps, biometric access, CCTV, almost to the point of making a Titanic statement that even God can’t sink this ship. Um…

I
In a solitude of the sea
Deep from human vanity,
And the Pride of Life that planned her, stilly couches she.

II
Steel chambers, late the pyres
Of her salamandrine fires,
Cold currents thrid, and turn to rhythmic tidal lyres.

III
Over the mirrors meant
To glass the opulent
The sea-worm crawls — grotesque, slimed, dumb, indifferent.

IV
Jewels in joy designed
To ravish the sensuous mind
Lie lightless, all their sparkles bleared and black and blind.

V
Dim moon-eyed fishes near
Gaze at the gilded gear
And query: “What does this vaingloriousness down here?” …

VI
Well: while was fashioning
This creature of cleaving wing,
The Immanent Will that stirs and urges everything

VII
Prepared a sinister mate
For her — so gaily great —
A Shape of Ice, for the time far and dissociate.

VIII
And as the smart ship grew
In stature, grace, and hue,
In shadowy silent distance grew the Iceberg too.

IX
Alien they seemed to be;
No mortal eye could see
The intimate welding of their later history,

X
Or sign that they were bent
By paths coincident
On being anon twin halves of one august event,

XI
Till the Spinner of the Years
Said “Now!” And each one hears,
And consummation comes, and jars two hemispheres.

=============================================

Jesus will come to judge the living and the dead and the world by fire, particularly those who mock sacramental confession. I’ll assume that those who archive are wanting to delete out of the system all digitally recorded sacramental confessions. Right? Right?

 

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Filed under Abuse, Confession, Free exercise of religion, Intelligence Community, Law enforcement, Missionaries of Mercy

Coincidences

statcounter stat florida

These visits to the blog (the top one being interesting) came in immediately after I sent an email to a particular person of a particular service of a particular country. Perhaps it comes from a person (same provenance) who has everything to do with that particular intelligence community person of that particular intelligence service of that particular country, that is, regarding a very particular aspect of the URL visited which I know he knows about (because I told him) though it is not directly spoken about at that particular URL. But, whatever, it’s all just a coincidence. It means nothing. In mentioning this to a priest friend, with me rejecting that it meant anything, he said that, no, he doesn’t believe in coincidences, that such a thing is purposed. Hmm…

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Filed under Intelligence Community, Law enforcement, Military, Terrorism

FBI report: *Justice* Brett Kavanaugh

fbi fairmont wv criminal justice information systems

Having gone through so much, so very much, for me there is only one question remaining for which I demand an answer, and it is urgent, and I want verification. My end of the world question is this, and I will put money up for whatever the answer is:

“What is the favorite beer of *Justice* Kavanaugh?”

I would like to offer him the all time favorite toast of my own father:’

“May the most that you wish for be the least that you get.”

If you’ve had more than one beer, you might have to think about that, but that’s what makes it a great toast.

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Filed under Intelligence Community, Patriotism, Politics

FBI trying to suss out CIA? vice versa?

FBI West Palm Beach FL

Someone has thrown me into a tizzy in recent times, pushing hard on just how it is that when I was still in high school I was being brought into the CIA so as to be invited to be assigned to the Vatican. Not an everyday question. Hmm. I’ll have to think about that. It’s all shameless humint baiting, of course. I’m always happy to oblige when it comes to nostalgia.

Meanwhile, some people come to mind:

  • Our much loved Headmaster. Upon many zillion question psych exams, and seeing that I came up with 11.2 on a 1 to 10 scale for leadership – the scenarios presented for that, so very many, were sooo subtle – he took me under his wing for special training in leadership. The school had leadership camps for kids, which I never went to, despising them, I guess. But I made up for this by special tutoring. This headmaster taught me, of all things in the last few years of high school, counterintelligence. This training went on for years. Very intense. About eight hours each session. Going step by step, with ever more complexity. So intense did it get that he used real names once in a while, apologizing for this. All exhilarating for me. He wanted to make sure that I could never be duped by anyone for any reason in any way because of seeing through whatever I came across. He was super young for the position he had, in perfect health, but then dropped dead of a “heart attack” shortly after I graduated.
  • A guy I’ll call “The Janitor.” Military. Brilliant weapons guy. He shadowed me everywhere, right around the countryside. He was going to help me build my teenage version of a hermitage but my dad wanted me to build it by my own ingenuity. But the shadowing got to be annoying. I learned how to take evasive action, which is what he wanted, of course. When I asked him about it, sometimes pressing him on this – and many times over the years – he would steadfastly only give me the non-answer that I would see in the future what my future would be, but that this had everything to do with what others were assessing of me. He denied everything I guessed, which left me flummoxed. I’m guessing he’s long dead by now.
  • Peter Paul Strzok II. Just as an aside, I’m guessing that I met another alumnus, a present nemesis, of later counterintelligence / counterterrorism / military / FBI infamy, that is, if he had ever as a youngster come over to my parish school for a “Spanferkel” experience so as to get him recruited while being at one of the many levels of leadership camps we had. We had lots of language schools as well.
  • FBI agents a dime a dozen. From the time I was a little kid, then in Junior High School, then High School, then the first couple of years in the Seminary, my dad, himself very high profile, would invite FBI agents to town all the time for the elite crowd there, and go out of his way to make sure I was there so that he could introduce me to them, making sure that I was on their radar.

Anyway, I’m mulling over the question.

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Filed under Holy See, Intelligence Community, Vatican

Day-off: Getting professionally baited, you know, on purpose. ;-)

baiting

Waiting for boarding time for the trip to Rome, I’m noticing more old drafts that need sprucing up and publishing.

On my “day-off” the other week… month.. I returned the Sig Sauer P226 variant to “The Guy” (a label which can refer to any guy or number of people or group or groups of people in any number of places in any number of countries, right?). He lent his Sig to me to that I could see what a Sig is all about. He’s had it since the mid-1980s. I actually in the end didn’t like the grip, a bit like a revolver, almost the opposite grip-system as is found on a “normal” pistol, at least compared to my Glock 19 Gen4.

This time, our chat wasn’t a mere two or four hours. We went six hours non-stop.

suicide bomber land day 2001

Before I could say anything at all – no, really, nothing – he gave me further lessons in shooting. Non stop talking. Like he was on assignment. Great, thought I, as I need all the help I can get. I didn’t say anything, just took it all in. Strange, though, as this time he was mentioning targets, as if they were assignments. Instructions were about how to kill as many people (all head shots) as possible as fast as one could pull the trigger, that is, how it is, counterintuitively, that one moves from one target to the next as fast as one can aim even while not quite aiming, if that makes sense. To real shooters it will. Imagine a row of small steel targets on springs but unevenly spaced and of uneven heights and all moving on horizontal bars in different directions but you able to get a “kill” each trigger pull as fast as you can pull the trigger. Its where your eyes are looking. Not where you think. This was scaring me, needless to say. I decided to let him just keep going to see where this was going to go. He was clearly baiting. Field guys aren’t always the best counterintel guys.

Before I could say anything at all – no, really, nothing – he gave me lessons in bomb making for all situations, for cars, for entire buildings, for suicide bombing – yep- or for events from which you could walk away before it happened, always looking for a reaction from me, a question from me, a request for clarification from me. I said nothing. I just watched the show of baiting. He described usage of Composition-C (C-4) and of other otherwise easily obtainable materials. On and on he went. And that’s not the first time he said he could actually obtain such things. I’m sure he must have been leaving out details – or perhaps all the details were entirely fictional – as I’m guessing that such lessons would otherwise be rather illegal. He knows I write this blog. I have to wonder what he’s up to. He didn’t mind that all-hearing-cell-phones were present… So…

terrorist suicide bomber

This is like the third time he’s shared bomb making, so I suppose he’s just venting about his life up to now in the military and The Company. But this was different with the detail, even named targets such as an elevator toward the top of the […!]. Was he looking for another partner in a group no one would suspect, you know, like, a priest? He spoke to that point rather incisively. I’m guessing these are not conversations priests casually have now and again. But, then again, this was a monologue. So, coming at that from a different angle, is he trying to frame me for some future event, or perhaps frame the guy who stole my identity, you know, if I took an interest in all this? It’s all too easy, isn’t it? But, whatever, I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. For myself, I didn’t show any interest, ask any questions, or take any notes, or set any appointments to see some demonstrations. Nor did he push any of that. Probably just venting. Yep. That‘s what he’s doing. PTSD and all that. Fine. A bit weird all the talk on suicide bombs though.

Attempting to move on to a conversation instead me just watching a monologue for the longest time – as the hands of the clock were now spinning around – I recounted to him more of the baiting to which I’ve been subjected a few weeks ago by the GTMO guys with the bit about murder as “suicide” as an “assignment”. He said it was all perfectly familiar to him, that that’s how it’s done, how assignments are given out. Bingo, thought I. I asked: How’s that? He said it was all so familiar – expressly exclaiming this many times – but also signaling his recognition of details of what I was saying with his body language, point after point, nodding his head, smiling for just a nanosecond at this or that, pointing with a finger at any important detail… because, he said, this is all exactly the kind of thing he himself did, in detail, when he was stationed in France, baiting people, manipulating people, having people carry things out without their even knowing they were doing it at his bidding, expert, he thought anyway, at counterintelligence in a field-counterterrorism way. Why do things yourself if you can get your enemy to do them against himself for you? It’s all a rather murky world.

It gets so screwed up that in the end you don’t know who’s who and what’s what, whether the deep state is the real government or whether there are string pullers who make nations and governments a fiction and anything said to be deep into self-delusionary self-protectionist dramas lacking importance and influence on the world stage whatever individual players think of themselves. “The Guy” supported the view of just a few string pullers, while actual nations, including our own USA, are entirely irrelevant, unimportant, almost fictional. He himself, for instance, laughing at the upper echelon of The Company, in particular at Pompeo, then Director now Secretary, and Haspel, then someone providing enhanced interrogation now Director. Um…

Catching him off guard, I mentioned a possible connection down in the far western Florida panhandle. “So what?” he challenged, glaring me down.

Catching him off guard, I mentioned KSM singing after enhanced interrogation. This put him into controlled anger mode. He did well, but he was upset. To be clear, he was angry at the fact of enhanced interrogation being used, and his doubts that anything whatsoever actionable had been obtained in such fashion and where exactly did I get my information that KSM actually gave up anything actionable.

Mind you, it wasn’t all like this. We spoke of the faith. He also went on an on with social justice issues that he immersed himself into coming off of his ops. But in speaking of the faith there were a couple of topics which he himself brought up, as he always does, which put him into barely controlled anger mode, specifically anger against the Successor of Saint Peter, speaking not just of Pope Francis, but all of the Popes these past decades, none of them caving in on two topics, not caving in because of the truth of the matter (that being irrelevant), but because, he said, with white hot, momentarily shaking anger, because of power. They won’t give up on their power, he insisted again and again, with a crazy look in his eyes when he said ‘power’. The two topics making him so angry?

  • He supports divorce and remarriage (he’s happily married) because, after all, what difference does it make? This goes along with marriage for any reason, like LGBTQ “marriage”. I recall the Eritrean operative (Front of House for Pope Francis) who was murdered with the child in her womb as a shot over the bow when there was a referendum on “Gay Marriage” in Italy and there was huge pressure that the Catholic Church would make no intervention.
  • But the topic that made him really angry was that the Catholic Church teaches that women’s ordination is impossible regardless of any rite that anyone pretends to accomplish. It was like the Popes are interested not in truth, but just in ‘power’ because they follow the example of Christ.

Surreal, you say? No. Not at all. Actions against the Catholic Church are all about getting the Successor of Peter to cave in on but one matter of faith or morals, because after that, the Catholic Church is simply no more, because then Christ is a liar, the Church is as wishy-washy as anyone else, merely politically correct, a nothing, to be dismissed, which allows us, then, to congratulate ourselves, cursing God and feeling the power. Oooo! Power! He’s repeated very many times that these USA maintains a two-hour window in which we can assassinate any world leader. Some very few, one or two, might take just a bit longer, but it will happen very quickly. Think about that for a moment. The changing logistics needs massive teams just to be readied to do this in any given two-hour window.

Here’s the deal: Pope Francis wants his Missionaries of Mercy to go into and even beyond the peripheries, right out into the darkest of existential suffering, not necessarily to be successful, mind you, but to be a presence of mercy – at least the offering of it – for those who want it. In this case, it is to witness to the light of Christ regardless of the rage of the world.

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Filed under Day Off, Guns, Intelligence Community, Military, Terrorism

Murder as suicide: Did Pope Francis get his intervention? So far so good.

joint

I’ve written previously of this relatively recent incident – a conversation at a meal at a private house with many military officers and others – but I refrained from mentioning the involvement, so to speak, of Pope Francis in that conversation. Perhaps I should be more fulsome in these hectic, confusing, dark times. Here’s more detail about that evening with some of the top of our intelligence community. I think it’s safe to say all this now, two full months later. If it had anything to do with Pope Francis in the first place, whatever was happening with the murder as “suicide” thing is a danger which is surely now passed, I guess, maybe. But one should keep up with situational awareness, including those around Pope Francis. After all, there are those who wish harm upon the Holy Father, who do not hesitate to use extortion. Have we forgotten this scene with Mehmet Ali Agca?

fatima pope john paul assassination

I should emphasize that this was a strange evening. In walking into the house… well… it took like 40 minutes to get beyond the entrance as a discussion on what happens at GTMO was so intense, but I digress. Back to the mid-meal bit about Pope Francis:


Intel officer lady standing up and changing the topic: “Hey Father Byers: Pope Francis… Is his papacy viable? Is he worth it?” [This question about “it”, that is, making an intervention on his behalf, was clearly the point of this encounter with some twenty people, many who are in counterintelligence, counterterrorism and are at the top of their game. Everything went silent at this question and some of the main players were able to catch my eyes while they pointed at her, at her question, nodding their heads so as to say: This is it, the reason for this whole evening: Pay attention to the question. For that moment you could hear a pin drop. One stated the importance of the question to the immediate agreement of the others. The question about Pope Francis being “worth it” refers to… what? Since this crowd was making a big deal out of their knowing about every terrorist plot there is as a preface to this question, what am I supposed to think? It’s only a guess, but it is probable that they were taking seriously one of the many thousands of terrorist murmurings that are always being mumbled round about against the Vatican and the Holy Father, both “chatter” and direct threats. It’s only a guess, but it seems a question was posed higher up as to whether making an intervention on behalf of Pope Francis would be in the interests of these United States. Pope Francis, mind you, states that President Trump is not a Christian. Pope Francis, mind you, can offer Mass on the South side of the border fence. Pope Francis, mind you, doesn’t hesitate for a second to interfere in political / economic controversy. On and on. So, Pope Francis being “worth it” is a question. Indeed, I have to think that even the details of methodology were discovered, as we will see below, the whole murder as “suicide” thing.]

Father Byers to all present (paraphrased, as this part of the evening lasted about an hour): “Always, no matter what, any Pope’s security is worth an intervention. Stopping anything untoward against the leader of 1.3 billion people benefits the common good on so many levels and in so many ways. We believe that the papacy is not just some office, stuff to do, but is founded on the person of the successor of Peter himself. To strike at him is to make an attack on the One who has constituted him as Bishop of Rome. But let me tell you why in particular Pope Francis is ‘worth it.'” [A most intense discussion ensues for about an hour. At about the 45 minute mark, this happened…]

A senior GTMO interrogator knowing just about every terrorist plot and clearly with an ax to grind intel officer to me, shaking his head in rejection of my arguments: “Pffft!”

Father Byers baiting the same Senior GTMO interrogator: “Hey! You would know a best friend of mine who lives not quite around here, but, you know, right in this region. He would get permissions exclusively from the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs – not the Chiefs – but only from the Chairman. He’s the one who would deliver detainees from black site to black site all around the world. We’ll call him a logistics guy. You would have met him many times. He would know you well.” [Since this conversation I’ve come to know yet another deliverer of detainees, logistics guy, who has been to GTMO many times. Interesting. It seems I’m getting to know all of them.]

Senior interrogator at GTMO: [He didn’t respond other than with two unmistakable tell-tale body language signs]:

  • Momentary fear in the eyes; he knows he can now be exposed, either as outright verified or as using the GTMO thing as a cover. I do have friends, one being frantic to say it is impossible to verify such things. But that’s irrelevant as, either way, the fear of this guy at the meal reveals the veracity of something serious going down.
  • Simultaneous to the fear in the eyes thing, he suffered a slight, bodily caving-in of the chest, accompanied with a slight shrinking in his chair, just a centimeter back and down, but visible, fearful, not wanting to believe what he just heard, a flight response of fear. He’s knows he’s just been had, totally. I really shouldn’t do this. Perhaps this is my weakness: being an enfant terrible, as the French say. Sometimes it seems it’s just too easy. Maybe it’s made to be too easy. Yet…

Top counterterrorism, counterintelligence guy to me, obviously the senior officer in this discussion but privately, now at the end of the meal and making our way outside the house: “I think you are right about Pope Francis.” [I was giving an impossibly positive spin on Pope Francis’ actions, trying to demonstrate that he’s worth the effort to save with an intervention. I think he repeated some four times in two minutes as we were walking outside and then again outside that he thinks that I’m right about Pope Francis. So then he says:] “I have an assignment for you.” [“assignment” – he’s baiting to find out if I’m the guy who stole my identity decades ago so as to do “assignments,” or if I’m me. Perhaps he knows I can have a chat with the head of security at the Vatican.] “Pay close attention to what Bill Binney [NSA metadata predictor of critical incidents and then whistle blower] says is the first thing to know about himself, that he would never intentionally commit suicide.” [He repeated that, emphasizing, for the sake of my assignment, that he would never intentionally commit suicide. Mind you, Bill Binney had not been mentioned that entire evening. That’s the first time I had ever heard of him. I’m guessing that all this murder as “suicide” thing refers instead to Pope Francis, since, as I say, in the midst of all this, this guy keeps repeating that he thinks I’m right about Pope Francis. I’m connecting the dots here, and I know I’m only guessing, but it seems that there was enough metadata to predict an op over against Pope Francis, one that would involve murder made to look as suicide. How devastating would that be for the Church and the world? The darkness and despair would be hard to imagine.]

chess board robert van der steeg impossible world

To be even more fulsome, I should also include here that other chess pieces also came up in the evening’s conversation, including the demise of Miriam Waldu, the “Front of House” for Pope Francis who was murdered a couple years ago in the midst of the gay-marriage referendum of Italy. She was a shot over the bow. Extortion. Strange that her case was jacked up to a full blown murder investigation almost immediately and then absolutely nothing has been said of her since then. Nothing. As I’ve said previously, I think she was the one the FBI had been bragging to me about, a girl from ultra dirt poor Eritrea snatched up by our intel when it was happenstance noticed that she was the best in the world for instantaneous face recognition, able to recite the relevant biography for any of many thousands of pictures shown to her quickly only once, perfect, then, for “Front of House” for the leader of 1.3 billion people.

Another similar person in the employ of the Holy See came up as well. That guy seemed to have plenty of malice about him, and so I unmasked him. Sorry. I’m the King’s good servant but God’s first. You know the drill. That part of the discussion during the meal was all about his “demise” by way of what I still hold to have been a surely reversible cardiac incident. He was an Italian CIA asset working in the CDF. His identity and intelligence connection was confirmed for me not only by his American trainer – a close CIA friend – but by the head of intel / security at the Vatican).

I can’t imagine what kind of extortion Pope Francis is under, but that’s a story for later.

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Tree felling: Blackest of Black Ops

tree felling

This tree, estimated to top out at a whopping 150 feet, as a double, was threatening both our social hall and classrooms-church buildings. I employed this most capable off-the-charts-skill-sets black ops guy while he was stateside for communications with the State Department for some days not only because he had all the equipment and know how and insurance, but because of who he employs and the conditions he sets for employment.

He gets young men coming from impossibly horrifically broken families and puts them to work to get them away from bad influences and requires that they are always enrolled in a class or classes to get their GEDs. As a result of his fatherly influence in their lives, they are awesome young men.

We spoke quite a bit about situational awareness, and, I must say, this bit about bettering those around him is the best way to go about situational awareness. It’s like a teacher engaging the most troublesome of troublemakers, making them leaders of their classes. Very cool, all of that, very cool indeed.

And then, off he goes in the blackest of black ops land, you know, the darkest of existential peripheries. I am honored to have met this guy. An inspiration. I think it’s good for priests to have lots of laity that they learn from in all sorts of ways.

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Just after I bought my ticket for Rome: “Fortis fortuna adiuvat.” No! Angels!

DOJ

After my passport numbers went up on line from my favorite travel agency, these hits about my itinerary overseas above were then followed by the same from the FBI’s national research center near Fairmont / Clarksburg WV (CJIS), the largest institution of the agency for centralized info on criminal justice. This is something new, as I’ve learned to expect just a visit from the George Bush Center for Intelligence with a server named so as to be seen. Courteous. I can feel the love! But what changed so as to occasion CJIS?

FBI-Atlanta was kind enough to let me know the other week that I’m involved with the DARPA – COMPASS program. That may have replaced my original decades old perpetual interdepartmental cannot-be-unmasked-for-more-details program of tracking that Main State and later the FBI described to me with a letter and then an alternative identity (effectively a third!) without me asking for it. The COMPASS program carries a certain risk. A target of COMPASS, i.e., a person of interest, can be such because of being at risk or as constituting a risk. Since I’ve always been treated extraordinarily well, I’m guessing I’m in the at risk category, and COMPASS, as DARPA’s new toy, is the now by far the most effective mathematical analysis prediction “machine” (if you will) concerning individuals somehow in the midst of gray zone activities. It’s much easier to just throw me in the mix and forget about it along with the now small multitude of ambiguous characters. That’s what COMPASS is for: easing the burden of work, doing more with less.

In that case, I’m guessing that the tracking promised by Main State in the early 1990s has been delegated to the usual CAPPS systems which continuously updates passenger name records (PNR) for everyone on any given flight manifest. If there’s a high enough risk score attached to that PNR, an inquiry is automatically sent along to the TSA of DHS and, when they are frustrated at being locked out as to why there is a high score, they send the inquiry along. It’s imagined that CJIS can come up with a reason for the high risk score, and, pushing a bit more when that’s found to be untrue, the inquiry is simply overruled by Main State and I’m cleared for the flight, all updating in the COMPASS spreadsheets for use in their surely infallible algorithms. ;-)

So, it’s highly doubtful that there will be a pesky no-fly list notification while, ticket in hand, I attempt to get a gate and confirmed seat assignment at Hartsfield-Jackson international terminal. After all, I’m forever “accompanied”, to use Pope Francis’ terminology, on flights since as long as I can remember, back into the 1980s. I’ve never been on any SSSS or TSDB lists as far as I know, though in 1990 and then again in 2009 some entirely expected fun was to be had at Tel Aviv’s Ben Gurion. Smiling chutzpah always wins the day.

The last time I went through the TSA shake down in Atlanta the agents instead stepped waaaay back and let me and my carry-on stuff pass totally unchecked despite plenty of metal in the carry-on stuff and literally many pounds of surgical metal holding my leg together. When I protested their lack of concern about the carry-on stuff and all the metal I had on me they instead said that it didn’t matter, and that I could go through, that I’m good, because their checking me didn’t matter. That just left me bewildered. Less checking than for the pilot, the only other guy in line. It’s not like they were busy…

My seating is always switched out at the last second so as to place me with diplomats (with their usual retinue) or with various branches of the military or with Federal Air Marshals or of other reps of institutes and agencies, always. Or maybe these are the only people who fly these days. One memory in particular regards a most polite and well mannered diplomat who enlisted my help to get safely to the Excelsior in Rome, a kind of beyond the star system hotel next to the U.S. Embassy, reminiscent of the “Continental” of John Wick fame. Goodness!

My usual unusual accompaniment during the flight should be more interesting than the usual interestingness.

Some would wish good luck, good fortune. No. Life has nothing to do with such imagined things as hoped by the creators of the all-power-encompassing COMPASS program, which, ironically, is based entirely on chance, luck, the demon goddess “Fortuna.” What a living hell that is…

Instead, everything has come together seemingly miraculously, in the Providence of our Lord, with the ministrations of the angels, to ensure that what needs to be done is accomplished. But after that, it seems to me, I’ll be quite on my own. But that’s O.K. That’s also according to the will of the Lord. And I’m happy with that.

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Monkeys at GTMO & my little parish

Seems not even one day can go by without some contact from some intelligence service or agency or contractor or whathaveyou. Yesterday, there were a number of encounters, but the most memorable was yet another logistics guy, you know, delivery guy, you know, of detainees. Over the last while I think I’ve gotten to know really a lot of these guys spanning the last number of decades. Why is that? They’re all the same when they’re legit. I’ve seen this in a best friend. I’ve seen it in those I know are legit… super smart, reasonable, balanced, calm, able to take things in, fearful of nothing, able to do anything physically, super smart, able to give an incisive critique, loyal, patriotic, one who would lay down his life for you in a second, one who can’t tolerate stupid on a team where smarts in everyone count in order to stay alive, not boasting, but rather humble, but totally able to smack anyone down by getting those others to push themselves for betterment to their utmost and then beyond that… Did I say super smart?

He’ll be going to work for me during the next couple of weeks on an especially dangerous project – only because it’s what he loves to do in down time for recreation and only because this job was recommended by a friend – not anything necessarily to do with intelligence mind you, but it will admittedly for him put all his skills to the test. Not everyone can be a monkey, or take care of monkeys for their own best interests. It’s something I used to do in the seminary which needed an extreme sports person, one who was willing to take risks.

Interestingly, he mentioned the monkey-cage thing in Zero Dark Thirty down in GTMO, and then made some incisive comments on the accuracy of the film. I made some hypotheses about the personages depicted by various characters. He did his best not to say anything, and he didn’t, but this totally caught him off guard. It was the nanosecond look in the eyes which told the entire story when I mentioned the present employment of one personage depicted by one character and then the present demise of another personage depicted by another character. ;-)

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John Stalin Brennan Russian Bear discontinued for bottom feeding

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This now double-ear-tagged bear was spotted at a parishioners house the other day. He was brought here from Tennessee. Everyone everywhere dumps their troublesome creatures on us. He’ll be live-trapped again and removed in some other way. He’s learned to do up some swamp bottom feeding. In this case he dragged the garbage precipitously downward until it got caught up between a couple of trees. Then he ran away.

Meanwhile, John Brennan, young Stalinist, had voted for everything to do with Иосиф Сталин, you know, იოსებ სტალინი, you know, everything, connected with Joseph Stalin, General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union you know, the guy responsible for the genocide of an entire continent through firing squad, torture, prison, “labor camps”, and vast regions of total starvation, stealing everyone’s food:

stalin bear

It surprises me that people today gleefully take an adventure on the Trans-Siberian railway not realizing that it was used for eastward movement of Moscow’s war machine, and westward movement to remove all grain and foodstuffs from the entire region of the globe. Everyone dead everywhere. That’s what John Brennan, Director of the CIA, voted for. He’s continued in his anti-American subversion in his bottom feeding. So…

I’m so happy that his clearance has been cleared out. Finally. To remove his security clearance is to be patriotic. Now maybe we can do something for America, taking America back from those who promoted AmeriKa.

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Spying on White House Situation Room

Omarosa recorded conversations in the White House Situation Room. The only way for that to happen is that it was allowed to happen by security. The only way for that to be allowed by security is for it to be planned by security. Otherwise, it cannot happen. Right? What does that say? They speak of tightening up some policies about cell phones. Really. That sounds maliciously sloppy. No one but no one in the intelligence community allows cell phones anywhere near anything or anyone high value. Just. Wow.

Moreover, if it was done once to record an alleged happenstance comment, is it not done on a continuous basis as a fishing expedition, perhaps with baiting? What does that say?

If it is thought that the content of the an alleged happenstance comment is more important than the security of the most secured room in the world, um…, what does that say?

This has nothing to do with Omawhoever. It has everything to do with bad actors in security. Right? That goes to those who set security policies. At the least, the lack of oversight needs some oversight. Who’s overseeing the overseers? That needs investigation. I just don’t see how the sloppiness is not entirely malicious.

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DOD-DARPA gaming gray-zones to be more black and white with red blood

DARPA DOD Situational Awareness

Multiple terrorist events are to be noticed in the city depicted above. Did you notice the yin-yang graphic providing foundation for situational awareness? That’s all about repeated baiting.

After taking care of some things in northeast Atlanta on my day off a few days ago, I hiked it over to nearby FBI Atlanta where, at the security building, a printout on yours truly was placed in front of me. I had wanted to discuss some options for a perpetual / interdepartmental program Main State placed me on (and in which I was further entrenched by the FBI four years later) in the early and mid-1990s. But the printout placed in front of me indicated another and more recent program altogether. I guess the agent was wondering which program it was that I wanted to talk about. That took me off guard as I didn’t know until now that I was on more than one program.

The guy was terribly exaggerated in looking at the printout, looking at me, looking at the printout, looking at me, looking at the printout, looking at me, and then putting it down on the otherwise entirely empty counter and shoving it toward me while he asked me a few questions. If he wanted me to see at least the title on the top of the page through the dark window of that security building, that was a mistake, or on purpose, either to show me how stupid it was for me to show up at the FBI when the program is spearheaded by another agency altogether, or because he was told to do that (and that indicates something else altogether, something for another post).

The summary report shoved in front of me was about another and quite recent program having provenance with “DOD/DARPA, the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency. DARPA is largely constituted by civilian scientists and mathematicians, by physics and chemistry nerds, by manipulators of everything internet (which they helped to invent btw). DARPA is spread out in multiple research centers, playgrounds, if you will, in which imagination rules the day. Budget is simply not a concern. That would be one of the coolest places in the world to work under those conditions, wouldn’t you agree? For many years of my life I was in those circumstances. It was exhilarating. But, here’s the deal: there’s always someone who thinks they’ve found salvation by way of self-congratulation for the little project they’ve been able to get approved just because, for instance, he or she is an ultra-super-genius mathematician. And then things get dangerous.

The next day I spoke with a top DOD guy who is quite familiar with DARPA, as he would acquire the results of some of their projects for integration into some of his own major military projects he was working up with our military manufacturers. He knows a bit of my history and was much perplexed as to why DARPA could possibly be interested in yours truly. That was my reaction exactly. Until I saw this while scrolling through DARPA’s news items, now on page two as of this writing, as this was announced back in March of this year (2018). Perusing that little announcement, lots of pieces fell into place regarding incidents in relatively recent times, particularly after that date. Let’s take a quick look at that short publicly consumable document on that particular project. Be sure that anything publicly consumable doesn’t tell the whole story. But, we have what we have. It’s all baiting. As far as my own involvement in all this, I guess I would be a guinea pig upon whom to test some baiting. I don’t like it. Being a beta-target has its risks and misunderstandings. Whatever about me, it also puts those around me at risk. I’m not a willing participant. I note that the guy who stole my identity decades ago has been telling me for the past number of months that I’m on another program besides the one occasioned by him. I thought he was off his rocker. But he was spot on, describing what is happening in detail. So, here we are. So, it’s also a chance to make an evaluation from a disadvantaged, merely baited position. Here’s the short document with my emphases and [comments]:

===========================

Making Gray-Zone Activity more Black and White

New program aims to lift the fog obscuring an adversary’s intentions in slow, simmering non-traditional conflicts – outreach@darpa.mil 3/14/2018

An emergent type of conflict in recent years has been coined “gray zone,” because it sits in a nebulous area between peace and conventional warfare. Gray-zone action is not openly declared or defined, it’s slower, and is prosecuted more subtly—using social, psychological, religious, information, cyber and other means to achieve physical or cognitive objectives with or without violence [thus not exclusive of violence to achieve also destruction of religious sites or people(s), not exclusive of violence to achieve also the brainwashing of religious people or changes in religious practice and doctrine. While all that refers to malevolent actors, the response is to be on the same level:]. The lack of clarity of intent—the grayness—makes it challenging to detect, characterize, and counter an enemy fighting this way.

To better understand and respond to an adversary’s gray-zone engagement [meaning we are engaged and respond to that engagement in that same gray-zone with or without violence; see “theater-level operations” below], DARPA’s Strategic Technology Office today announced a new program called COMPASS, which stands for Collection and Monitoring [including humint guys=baiters to better define targets whose particularities on any given day after he’s been studied are available through metadata evaluations and actionable parameters the field] via Planning for Active Situational Scenarios [which is where in-the-field-violence can enter the equation]. The program aims to develop software that would help clarify enemy intent by gauging an adversary’s responses to various stimuli. [=baiting typical of counterintelligence reduced to spreadsheet style metadata.] COMPASS will leverage advanced artificial intelligence technologies, game theory, and modeling and estimation [all of which is utterly dependent on arbitrarily established standards of philosophy, theology, economic anthropologies, etc. This is the elephant in the room. It throws out the Constitution and replaces it with theories used by adversaries. Law is thrown out. Natural law is thrown out. It’s all just the yin-yang action and reaction, indeed being controlled by the adversary in this way as it is he who leads, who invites being baited, you know, in particular ways] to both identify stimuli [through contrived, arbitrary, thought to be leading baiting incidents] that yield the most information about an adversary’s intentions [“the ol’ mafia-esque extortion: “We know where your family lives” (it always comes down to that, as I’m told, very quickly)], and provide decision makers high-fidelity intelligence on how to respond [unless the one so baited is himself baiting his baiters since the beginning, taking any number of sides and tactics to see who’s who with what intentions] – with positive and negative tradeoffs for each course of action [people being taken out is always the “positive” result as it gives “decision makers” stuff to do, an encouragement for which can always be obtained in this fashion, the negative tradeoff simply being the bother one has to go through in explaining the reason why an action had to be taken must remain classified information].

“The ultimate goal of the program is to provide theater-level operations and planning staffs with robust analytics and decision-support tools that reduce ambiguity of adversarial actors and their objectives,” [adversarial for who, the Southern Poverty Law Center, who hold citizens in good standing to be suspected terrorists and have been joined in that opinion by the FBI for very many years now?] said Fotis Barlos, DARPA program manager. [Thus, the guy sitting behind his computer screen with a joy-stick, who is from there flying an otherwise unmanned drone and is dropping bombs on a village on the other side of the world will feel nice about himself because his target’s teenagers all play with the target’s computer all on the target’s profile and are just baiting their friends who are having fun baiting them and no one is a terrorist. Have we really given up on humint?] “As we see increasingly more sophistication in gray-zone activity around the world, we need to leverage advanced AI and other technologies to help commanders make more effective decisions to thwart an enemy’s complex, multi-layered disruptive activity.” [The response to that which is “using social, psychological, religious, information, cyber and other means to achieve physical or cognitive objectives with or without violence” is a response which is also “using social, psychological, religious, information, cyber and other means to achieve physical or cognitive objectives with or without violence”. This makes everything descend into chaos. Everyone gets better at being gray. And, by the way, baiting is also entrapment. Thus, if you put enough pressure on someone, they will react. Thus, the Mafia will break your mother’s arm for not paying her usual installment for protection, and you, the son, will express your disgruntlement publicly, the response to which is a bullet between the eyes for you, which offers a “good example” to anyone else thinking about not paying their installment for protection. And you get more people paying protection. This is called empire building. In the past number of months I’ve been baited in all sorts of ways regarding terrorist activities, and with plenty of “insurance policies” for extortion, even though I have a history throughout my life of stopping any number of terrorist incidents. This is a distraction, I think, from something going on with the duty roster at Main State. I’ve been trying to report that. This is way to stop that reporting. Anyway…]

Current military decision-making follows a well-understood and effective OODA loop—Observe, Orient, Decide and Act. [Yes. That’s rather pedantic.] This is how planning is done in various geographic areas around the world, which works for traditional kinetic scenarios, Barlos said. This process, however, is not effective in gray zone warfare. Signals in the environment are typically not rich enough to draw any conclusions, and, just as often, adversaries could implant these signals to induce ambiguity. [Tradecraft is, however recognizable if you don’t blind yourself with self-congratulatory game theory. The entire methodology must remain open to new conditions. That’s how we caught UBL. Phone calls were made on behalf of UBL, but always from a different pay phone. But no one does that. That was tradecraft so persnickety that it revealed the malicious actor. But no program would have seen that as the “programmer” back in the day configured analysis according to pre-9-11 thinking that UBL and his supporters were all in a cave. The one person only who thought outside of the program is the one who caught him. So, what does that say about this?] COMPASS aims to add a dynamic, adaptive element [not really, as the active baiting that is feeding algorithms is using increasingly ossified algorithms, right? Right?] to the OODA loop for complex, gray-zone environments. [This is someone overexcited for finding what they think the Holy Grail for them happens to be. I see this all the time in academics.]

The COMPASS program will leverage game theory for developing simulations to test and understand various potential actions and possible reactions by an adversary employing gray-zone activity. [For those not in the know, “game theory” forces life itself into an ideology of action and reaction, whose metadata can feed into imagined equations: “Everything is math” is the exclamation of promoters, “everything.” Game theory has been used by economists and some rather cynical investors for many decades. Some think, seriously, that game theory is what runs the world, absolutely, no question, everything, all based on greed, a reverse of Karl Marx but not different from him in the end. And this is where it all falls apart. Human beings, terrorists or not, have currents running deeper than all the yin-yang gaming theory. To deny this is to miss out on the experience and POV of literally trillions of people throughout the millennia] Barlos quickly noted, however, that the program is not about developing new sensory technologies, virtual reality systems or other advanced hardware. The program focuses rather on advanced software that would quickly present options to decision makers by assimilating a large amount of intelligence collected using existing, state of the art systems (such as standard video exploitation, or textual analysis tools [and humint]) related to rapidly changing scenarios.

“We’re looking at the problem from two perspectives: Trying to determine what the adversary is trying to do, his intent; and once we understand that or have a better understanding of it, then identify how he’s going to carry out his plans—what the timing will be, and what actors will be used,” Barlos said. “The first is the what, and second is the where, when, and how. [Bill Binney at the NSA diversely came up with predictions like this twenty years ago.]

“But in order to decide which of those actions is important you need to analyze the data, and you need to understand what different implications are and build a model of what you think the adversary will do,” he said. “That’s where game theory comes in. If I do this [baiting], what will the adversary do? If I do that [baiting], what might he do? So it is using artificial intelligence in a repeated game theory process to try to decide what the most effective action is based on what the adversary cares about.” [“cares about” isn’t just ideology, but also the “insurance” extortion scenarios, always. Also, again, what if the baiter is baiting you to bait in particular ways, while meanwhile he is doing something different entirely? Sitting behind a screen is one of the best ways to ensure terrorism. People aren’t so stupid as all that.]

The COMPASS program seeks experts in AI, machine learning, game theory, modeling and simulation, control systems, estimation and other related fields [I hope “other” means humint]. A Proposers Day is scheduled for March 30, 2018, in Arlington, Virginia. Registration instructions and more details are available on […]

==========================

My further commentary: The problem with all this is that the emphasis is entirely on the adversary, with nothing on the arbitrary input of the programmer. It canonizes any result recommending whatever it is that sells to “decision makers” because it is all backed up with… oooo!… mathematics. What does the programmer think philosophically, religiously, economically, socially…? Any action of violence, brainwashing, whatever, is going to be based on a few programmers in DARPA. Really? Wow. Also, the humint side of things doesn’t work if the target can figure out what you’re doing before you even start. Anyway, more on “deep currents” and how to deal with them in another post.

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1998 US Embassy bombings: Nairobi, Dar es Salaam (FBI CIA DARPA)

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embassy dar es salaam

Ten minutes apart in two countries. Numbers killed differ officially, somewhere between 100+ and 303 people. Many thousands wounded. It was catastrophic. Two truck bombs. All other embassies everywhere scared to death. And, of course, this wasn’t only an attack on the United States, but also, very directly, on the peoples and the viability of the countries of Kenya and Tanzania. These bombings were UBL’s first big projects for al-Qaeda.

Two years previously, at the U.S. Embassy in Rome, “Rick” was the guy behind the window who, in express coordination with Main State and without me asking, provided me with a false passport because of a situation with a certain guy who had taken my identity. “Rick” became the FBI’s Chief investigator for U.S. Embassy bombings in Nairobi and Dar es Salaam two years later. “Rick” isn’t sloppy in his work.

When, in late 1998, after these bombings, I went to report something at the Embassy in Rome, I was escorted to a back office upstairs and seated with a certain agent who entirely ignored whatever I had to report, expressly rejecting even being shown what I had brought with me as proof of gun transfers to straw purchases of Mexican cartels as wrought by the guy who stole my identity. But then she proceeded to reprimand me severely for not taking the false passport two years previously. Obviously this was front and center in their minds two years later, even not long after the embassy bombings. She was still incredulous at my stupidity: “Don’t you know who that was who gave you that passport? He became the Chief Investigator for the Embassy bombings. And you didn’t do what he said with what he offered you. Just to let you know,” she continued, “that week we were having a seminar on why never ever to give out a false passport, and in the midst of that, he did, to you. So, what do you think that means? Do you think you should have taken it?”

Rhetorical questions. I was duly smacked down. I just didn’t know what to do two years before, it being that I had only been ordained some four years and couldn’t fathom why I, a citizen in good standing, should disappear from the face of the earth with yet another “identity” in play even while the guy who stole me identity should be protected by the FBI and the State Department. It only more recently dawned on me that he’s working for them. I’m a bit slow on the uptake. This is a perpetual interdepartmental program since 1992 (at least as dated to the letter from the Ambassador at Main State), if not since the late 1970s.

Why mention this again? Because of what happened at Atlanta FBI the other day:

When I told FBI Atlanta that I just wanted to have a chat about some options of the perpetual program I’m on (which the FBI later further entrenched me in), that program going back many decades, they thought I meant something much more recent that popped up when they looked up my name, a program with DARPA. I didn’t know about that one. I have much to say about that, about being game for gaming gamers, assassins. But, I digress. That’s for another post. What I’m concerned about especially is the duty roster at Main State and how that affects the viability of our counterterrorism efforts. Concerns I raised now a year ago are as fresh as if I’d make them today. The DARPA, more recent than all of that, is a distraction. How ironic. Stay tuned for some irony.

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FBI Atlanta: “Hey priest, it’s DARPA.”

Continuing my “Day-Off story, by coincidence I arrived to the side-parking lot outside the perimeter of FBI Atlanta at the same time as a CTU guy from Virginia, who didn’t go through the main gate but instead parked in one of the free remaining spaces outside. I parked next to him. He walked me to the security building, except when I went back to my car to get I think it was my passport. He went back to his car and rummaged around next to me until I was on my way again to the security building. He went inside handing off a piece of paper. I went to the window outside, out front as instructed. I struggled to see anyone as the window is almost completely blacked out and even the voices are so muffled that almost zero communication can go on.

The two agents had one piece of paper visible on the entire length of the long counter between them and me. They were looking at that, looking at me, looking at that, looking at me, looking at that, looking at me, shoving it on the counter right under my nose, though upside down. I guess they were beckoning me to, you know, accidentally have a look. It was a one-page summary report, you know, the kind you fill out with the “tab” key on your computer keyboard so as to jump from one bordered-field-box to the next, entering the least info possible, the origin, the date, the name of the author, a slightly larger box for comments at the bottom. I did get a look at the name of the author (which I needn’t give) and the provenance of the printout. The provenance of the report is what took me totally off guard. The provenance of that report was the absolutely last thing I would have thought to see that morning just there at the FBI.

To be continued. Time to start gaming the gaming game.

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FBI Atlanta – phone games

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After taking care of some things in northeast Atlanta on the “Day-Off”, and since I was right next to the new campus of FBI Atlanta outside the city (directly across the street from CDC), I thought I might see about some having a chat about some options for the “perpetual program” I’m on. It’s true that an Ambassador at Main State put me on that program, but the FBI seriously entrenched me all the more in the program in conjunction with Main State not long after that. I came prepared with some relevant documents. Not that I would need them. Having found the campus, I called up the security building.

A recording comes on with a woman’s voice warning you that the call is recorded and will be an analyzed. I like it. No, I take that back. I love it. They do a 15 minute menu to scare off any caller, first of all because of the time, but then also because of the menu options. It’s like… If you have direct information on an imminent attempt on the life of the President, the Vice-President or immediate families, press 1. – If you know of an imminent nuclear attack on the USA, those who are carrying this out and where they are right now, press 2. Blah blah blah. Finally, there’s an option for “Other”. I pressed that since nothing I have is equivalent to an imminent nuclear holocaust. The recording then started again for another 15 minutes. This gets rid of druggies who would never have the patience.

That recording finishes, and then it’s automatically piggybacked by another recording, this time with a guy’s voice who, on the recording, really impatiently demands your first and last name (at least he didn’t use expletives), and while you’re quickly saying your name the digital guy even more impatiently immediately demands that you state your name again – with raised pitch in his voice – and then without a break, even while you’re saying your name repeatedly, the recording digitally says that since there was no response he’s going to have to terminate the communication, you know, with a voice of a tender snowflake who sounds like he’s been micro-aggressioned beyond his limit for the day – how to describe it? – kind of like a quiet shriek, ever so offended that you had the gall to stay on the line all this time without hanging up. Mind you, this is all purposed to bait you into saying something stupid out of frustration. Playing the game, I did say something, though nothing stupid. “Wow” was my recorded response that they can “analyze” as the recording promises to do. “I did try to say my name…” Having gotten that response, the recording then hangs up. It is to laugh. I guess that gets rid of 99.99% of all callers who press the “Other” option. It also gives a chance for the security crowd to do research on the phone number and identity of the caller and triangulate your position. I like that. Smart. Although, one does get the impression that the FBI is trying a little too much with the inclusivity in all things thing. Somehow they got the tender snowflakes included. That took some imagination.

So, I called again, knowing that I’m now in a group of 0.01% of callers. So, this time another recording came on with yet another set of menu options threatening another 15 minutes and an analysis of anything you say. This time the recording was a guy sounding a bit like James Earl Jones. Very cool, that. The vast majority of the remaining 0.01% are going to hang up within a minute. I persevered, of course, always game to do the gaming thing. So, then, of course, soon enough a live super polite security lady came on the line and said to come on over to the security building. Great!

To be continued… I mention all this gaming the gaming game as this will be consonant with what happens next.

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Counterintel Sunday: “Situational awareness already saved your life.”

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Duc in altum: Launch out to the heights above the depths! Since there are those who will be upset that I was out on a pontoon boat with a family of our parishioners up in Graham County, NC (coming up from Atlanta, GA) – since priests should never get a break – I should preface this by saying that my day started about 3:00 AM. After putting up some posts on the blog on Saint John Vianney and Our Lady of the Snows, it was time for Adoration with dozens of parishioners at 6:00 AM with silence, then rosary, mercy chaplet, Lauds, Confessions the whole time, Benediction. At 7:10 AM it was time to race up to Graham County for Adoration and Rosary and Confessions before Mass at 8:30 AM. Then race back to Andrews for Confessions and then Mass, followed by the social (with a Q and A on some apologetic questions), followed by Communion calls in the back mountains. It was only then, now already evening, that I raced back up to Graham County to finally get on the boat after some sixteen hours of non-stop apostolate.

But let’s back up to early Mass in Robbinsville. Mind you, this is not a place you go so as merely to pass through. It’s a purposed destination, that is, utterly off the beaten track. You have to have a reason to come, cycling, motorcycling, backpacking on the AT, kayaking or because you have a cabin, or… just because, which is always a good reason.

Sitting back in the confessional (with it’s massive window facing the church) with just a minute a two before Mass, I saw this fellow, my age, come in and take a seat. The very nano-second I saw him I thought to myself, “This guy’s CIA.” It sounds really weird, but it’s just a thing with me since forever, meaning, I don’t remember ever being wrong. (Of course, I wouldn’t know that, right?) Still, it’s kind of stunning to me that as far as I know, I’ve never been wrong with these kind of experiences. It’s always instantaneous.

At the end of Mass I mentioned the article in the bulletin on Joyce Kilmer, in which I had failed to explicitly mention the OSS, successor to Kilmer’s great example and immediate predecessor of the CIA. I apologized for not remembering the tri-letter designation but said it’s something like CSS, something to do with Strategic Services, and asked if anyone knew the original tri-letters. No one said anything.

Afterward, outside the church, the guy I was guessing was CIA and therefore who should know the answer came up and said that the letters were OSS. Ah yes, said I, Office of Strategic Services. He said he knew that because he had just now retired after 39 years in the CIA. Surely they had recruited him right out of high school. This guy just happened to come here for Mass. No family. No cabin. No A.T. No kayaking. Waaaaaay out of his way. Mind you, it’s all understandable. Right after retiring out you want a breather, a drive through the mountains, a break. It’s what I would do. So, there’s no there there. Just that I caught him out. Like clockwork. But I digress.

After arriving to the forest on the far side of the picture above in the pontoon, which was super relaxing, a good times memory, we putt-putted back to the cabin, about an hour round trip. A call was made to the neighbors, life long friends of my parishioners down in Atlanta who happened to have a cabin right next door. They had always been assigned to the same places in the military, and were both into the intel / surveillance thing.

The bagpipes came out. Amazing Grace and other pieces were squeezed out, echoing across the massive lake. Really loud. That was met with yelps of glee and appreciation by other lake dwellers far away with the quiet evening unbroken surface of the water permitting their voices to render thanksgiving at a distance. Then dinner.

The conversation of these ultra-super cultured people – leaving me entirely in the dust – roamed about the works of literary geniuses, military intel, rosary meditations, my own background[!].The intel guy kept coming back to my growing up in Minnesota and to various aspects of what kind of photographic memory I had, provably, since I was one year old. He was super interested in what I perceived to be the value of humint, the whys and wherefores. At one point the intel guy seemed to have had a sufficiency to make a decision. He locked eyes with me and kept hold of my eyes with his deadly serious though soft-spoken and each word accentuated and individuated tone of voice: “What is certain, I’m telling you this, what is certain is that your situational awareness has already saved your life. It has already saved your life. You are to continue with your situational awareness.”

I think his assertion immediately brought the conversation to what kind of dessert we would all like. Of course, I had no problem saying that I didn’t see a problem in sampling some of everything. Homemade cake, various kinds of ice-cream and deli toppings, the works. :-) Meanwhile, as you might imagine, the “already saved your life” comment came to mind. Maybe it’s just the way he said it: “already.”

Yesterday, from 3:00 AM until about mid-night, was absolutely pleasant. Refreshing. Perfect. Holy Mass at both churches. Adoration. The CIA guy: humble, happy guy. Racing about for Communion calls. The boat ride. The scrumptious dinner. The leave-me-in-the-dust conversation with the intel guy. The desserts. The super peaceful drive back through the mountain passes. The greeting back at the rectory by the puppies, Laudie-dog and Shadow-dog. But then the comment: “Your situational awareness has already saved your life. You are to continue with your situational awareness.”

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Listen up, CIA! Dedicatio par aevum Heroic history: Joyce Kilmer Centennial

CIA MEMORIAL LANGLEY

Today’s the 100th anniversary of death by sniper of forward field intelligence officer Joyce Kilmer. He’s personally the heroic example of what would become the Office of Strategic Services (OSS) which would itself turn into the Central Intelligence Agency.

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We had a memorial today, July 30, 2018, in the absolutely gorgeous National Forest dedicated to the memory of the great military operative Joyce Kilmer. Joyce, mind you, was a literary giant, compared even to G.K. Chesterton, certainly for his poetry. Look him up in Wikipedia. You won’t be disappointed.

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Descendants of Joyce Kilmer were there. The VFW was there in force, including the State and National Commanders. There were bagpipes, the bugle for Taps, the 21 gun salute.

I also had a part to play, offering a few religious words about heroism. I then had the great privilege of reciting the entire Rouge Bouquet included below.

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JOYCE KILMER: Memorial – Rev. George David Byers
July 30, 2018 – Centenary Memorial Service – Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest

Since Joyce Kilmer was a devout Catholic and since I’m the Catholic pastor of the local parish, I’ve been invited to say a few words to attempt to go the heart of who Joyce Kilmer is as a hero. Joyce’s Rouge Bouquet will then be read before a short prayer, followed by rendering honors and the Taps.

Joyce Kilmer was enthusiastically respected in all good friendship by his brothers in arms back in the day, a lively respect which continues today as we are now witnessing one hundred years later. Anyone who is profoundly immersed in their own times remains at one with us in all times. Joyce Kilmer is a hero because he leads us back to ourselves and who we are before God. Joyce’s poetical intervention about, say, any tree being awesome because of being just another tree, but made by God is an analogy bringing us into the lived reality of who any one of us is to be as a hero.

Like so many others in our topsy turvy society with wars and rumors of wars, in our day as people did in Joyce’s day, I have searched for heroism if not in all the wrong places then surely in all the wrong ways. Growing up in a military family, my father having been trained up at Parris Island as a Marine Fighter Attack Pilot in Guam, the Philippines, Japan, China and Korea, having been commander of the famed Checkerboard Squadron, I have bragged about him as my hero, perhaps making him too extra special. Joyce Kilmer knew there was a danger to making one tree more special than all the others, a danger of not seeing that we are all made by God, the danger of thinking that this other fellow is a hero so I don’t have to be one. That’s not the kind of respect a real hero wants.

At the same time I would go out of my way to greet any veteran I might see at a gas station or a supermarket or at church. I’ve learned NOT to say, “Thank you for your service,” as I would often get a half-hearted, or sad, or almost cynical if polite acknowledgment in return. To say “Thank you for your service” almost seems ungrateful to the very veteran before whom one stands, being thankful perhaps only for his or her service in unrepeatable circumstances so very far away, a fog of war that any veteran struggles to recount to anyone, a service which, therefore, is in danger of being forgotten if heroism is merely about things done, if heroism is just that specialized, that distant, that out of reach, my usual mistake of “he’s the hero so I don’t have to be one.”

To veterans then, I’ve learned NOT to say “Thank you for your service,” but simply, “Thank you.” The acknowledgment is immediate, sincere, one of appreciated solidarity. And yet, even in this thanksgiving there can still be something missing about the heroism Joyce Kilmer lived out, the heroism which won him the enthusiastic respect in all good friendship of his brothers in arms and of our own respect today.

An Army friend of mine who was taken up as a field agent of the CIA much along the lines of Joyce becoming a kind of distant forerunner of the best of our CIA operatives, reprimanded me, saying that I had much to learn about thanking any veteran. He said that a hero isn’t someone you thank so much as strive to imitate with intensity of service at whatever cost. That’s it, thought I foolishly. Striving to imitate intensity of service is a real compliment, a real thanksgiving, and goes a long way and is what any veteran would like to see from anyone. But it still isn’t the full story and is certainly not quite yet an appreciation of the kind of heroism lived out by Joyce Kilmer.

We’ve all heard veterans of foreign wars like Marcus Luttrell or Robert O’Neill say it; we’ve all heard our friends in Law Enforcement and Firefighting say it; I’m certain that most who are here today have said it, as heroes: “I’ve done nothing special.” And then they add what our Lord said we will all say should we make it into the gates of heaven: “I’ve only done what I had to do.” There are those who think that this is what humility is all about, misunderstanding this as some sort of self-deprecation. But they miss the point. This isn’t false humility to say “I’ve done nothing special.” It is to say in Joyce Kilmer’s analogy, that any tree is awesome among any other trees, each having been made by God, so that each tree, each person is to do what they have to do, what they’ve been given to do, what they’ve been called to do in whatever impossibly unrepeatable circumstances they happen to be in. We’re all called to be heroes.

What was so attractive about Joyce Kilmer to his brothers in arms and to us today is that he knew he had what we can all have by way of God: we can all have a love that is stronger than death, a love stronger than death. “Let me have the most dangerous assignment!” said Joyce Kilmer again and again. A love stronger than death given by God. That’s what we recognize as what we are all to have, a love stronger than death given by God; this is who we are all to be, one who lives out what we have to do, what we’ve been given to do, what we’ve been called to do in all our impossibly unrepeatable circumstances. What makes the hero is that which all can have, this God given love which is stronger than death. “Let me have the most dangerous assignment!”

So said the eternal Word of God the Father: let me have the most dangerous assignment; let me stand in their place, the innocent for the guilty, so that I might have the right in my own justice to have mercy on them. And we know what happened next: “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life,” eternal life, a love stronger than death, the eternal Son of God, our warrior of goodness conquering evil because giving us of his love that is stronger than death so that we might also say: “Let me have the most dangerous assignment!” Jesus is the One hero, and we are all heroes in him, recognizing before this love that is stronger than death that is offered to us all, that we then do, in thanksgiving, what we have to do, what we’ve been given to do, what we’ve been called to do in all our own unrepeatable circumstances, as in Joyce’s day, so in our own. The thanksgiving that our hero veterans want to have is that we all become heroes.

My own prayer this day is that those who visit this forest, coming into contact with the eternal Creator of creation, might find out about the heroism of Joyce Kilmer, the heroism we can all have with that God-given love that is stronger than death, that love which is eternal. Only God can make a tree. Only God can make a hero. We thank God for all our heroes, begging that we might strive to imitate intensity of generosity by living out in our everyday circumstances, with enthusiasm, that love which is stronger than death. Thank you, Joyce. Thanks to all our veterans. Thanks to all our heroes. Thanks to Jesus for giving us a love stronger than death.

The Rouge Bouquet

In a wood they call the Rouge Bouquet
There is a new-made grave to-day,
Built by never a spade nor pick
Yet covered with earth ten metres thick.
There lie many fighting men,
Dead in their youthful prime,
Never to laugh nor love again
Nor taste the Summertime.
For Death came flying through the air
And stopped his flight at the dugout stair,
Touched his prey and left them there,
Clay to clay.
He hid their bodies stealthily
In the soil of the land they fought to free
And fled away.
Now over the grave abrupt and clear
Three volleys ring;
And perhaps their brave young spirits hear
The bugle sing: “Go to sleep! Go to sleep!
Slumber well where the shell screamed
and fell.
Let your rifles rest on the muddy floor,
You will not need them any more.
Danger’s past;
Now at last, Go to sleep!”
There is on earth no worthier grave
To hold the bodies of the brave
Than this place of pain and pride
Where they nobly fought and nobly died.
Never fear but in the skies
Saints and angels stand
Smiling with their holy eyes
On this new-come band.
St. Michael’s sword darts through the air
And touches the aureole on his hair
As he sees them stand saluting there,
His stalwart sons;
And Patrick, Brigid, Columkill
Rejoice that in veins of warriors still
The Gael’s blood runs.
And up to Heaven’s doorway floats,
From the wood called Rouge Bouquet
A delicate cloud of bugle notes
That softly say: “Farewell! Farewell!
Comrades true, born anew, peace to you!
Your souls shall be where the heroes are
And your memory shine like the morning-star.
Brave and dear, Shield us here. Farewell!”

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From the Catholic funerary rites:

Saints of God, come to their aid! Come to meet them angels of the Lord!
Receive their souls and present them to God the Most High.
May Christ, Who called you, take you to Himself; may angels lead you to Abraham’s side.
Receive their souls and present them to God the Most High.
Let us pray: We commend our brothers and sisters to you, Lord. Now that they have passed from this life, may they live on in Your presence. Amen.
Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May their souls and all the souls of the faithful departed,
through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.

Render honors…

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