Tag Archives: Counterintelligence

Law officers, counterintel, humility. Shadow-dog and Chesterton…

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GSD’s, being wolves, are baiter-hunters. Domesticated just enough, Shadow-dog, for instance, thinks he sees something not entirely irredeemable in me, and so is forever trying his loyal best to teach me about the baiting game, because proper counterintelligence techniques are what anyone who’s not entirely naive would want to have in their toolkit for life, you know, what Jesus mentioned to us all – commanded us, really – that we are to be as clever as serpents even while being as innocent as doves what with being sent out as lambs in the midst of wolves…

So, there Shadow-dog stands in front of me, his instruction for me being in the form of play. That one plays does not mean that one is not deadly serious. Competitive fun as a form of instruction makes learning enjoyable, and therefore naturally memorable.

Shadow-dog is not cross-eyed, but he is that ever so slightly at this moment, trying to guess how I will take up his challenge to take his bait. He’s electrified, and like a contained explosion, is instantly ready to burst in whatever direction. Do I lunge to the left or right or straight ahead?

  • If I go straight ahead he lunges at me and we collide in less than a nano-second.
  • If I go to the left, he also goes to the left, just way faster than I ever could, and is that a dog-laugh I heard?
  • If I go to the right, he also goes to the right, just way faster than I ever could, and is that a dog-laugh I heard?

You would think he would chase off in the opposite direction, but, no. He enjoys a good dog-laugh. And this is the instruction Shadow-dog provides. Trying in every which way to indicate that I’m going to lunge in a different direction, he always is way ahead of me, reading me like a book.

But then, rarely, randomly, after having taught me to lunge in a direction I think he’s going to lunge in, Shadow-dog will instead head off in the opposite direction from which I’m lunging. After just a few steps, he then instantly turns, and, now all relaxed, having done his work in instructing my stupidity, he calmly stares, entirely happy with himself. The dog-smirk is unbearably humiliating. And then it’s time to get petted for a job he knows has been well done. He trots right over to me. Gooooood daaaaawwwg! “Unbearably humilitating” is also great learning territory. And he knows it. We make a good team. Someday, perhaps, I will learn.

chess board robert van der steeg impossible world

The problem with finding the right people for counterintelligence is in finding those who have some humility. Counterintelligence baits people to be arrogant: “I’ve got them now! – I’m in control! – Look at me!” Pride is the enemy of counterintel success. Humility, humility, humility.

Let’s see what that looks like in a counterintel situation. Let’s see what that looks like in the chapter of the Father Brown stories of G.K. Chesterton called The Secret of Father Brown in the volume also by that name. Chesterton uses the Father Brown character to go out of his way to humiliate (with good intentions) all law enforcement and our intel services. All in good humor and in good faith.

Here’s the deal: When the police chase a criminal they try to think like a criminal. But thinking merely “like” a criminal is not good enough. Meanwhile, the criminal is desperately trying to think “like” the police. But thinking merely “like” the police is never enough. Such scruples on both sides are to be avoided. ;-)

If you grapple with this simple story, it’ll be an occasion to enter deeply into the reality of life, making you quite successful with counterintelligence:

CHESTERTON FATHER BROWN

THE SECRET OF FATHER BROWN

FLAMBEAU, once the most famous criminal in France and later a very private detective in England, had long retired from both professions. Some say a career of crime had left him with too many scruples for a career of detection. Anyhow, after a life of romantic escapes and tricks of evasion, he had ended at what some might consider an appropriate address: in a castle in Spain. The castle, however, was solid though relatively small; and the black vineyard and green stripes of kitchen garden covered a respectable square on the brown hillside. For Flambeau, after all his violent adventures, still possessed what is possessed by so many Latins, what is absent (for instance) in so many Americans, the energy to retire. It can be seen in many a large hotel-proprietor whose one ambition is to be a small peasant. It can be seen in many a French provincial shopkeeper, who pauses at the moment when he might develop into a detestable millionaire and buy a street of shops, to fall back quietly and comfortably on domesticity and dominoes. Flambeau had casually and almost abruptly fallen in love with a Spanish Lady, married and brought up a large family on a Spanish estate, without displaying any apparent desire to stray again beyond its borders. But on one particular morning he was observed by his family to be unusually restless and excited; and he outran the little boys and descended the greater part of the long mountain slope to meet the visitor who was coming across the valley; even when the visitor was still a black dot in the distance.

The black dot gradually increased in size without very much altering in the shape; for it continued, roughly speaking, to be both round and black. The black clothes of clerics were not unknown upon those hills; but these clothes, however clerical, had about them something at once commonplace and yet almost jaunty in comparison with the cassock or soutane, and marked the wearer as a man from the northwestern islands, as clearly as if he had been labelled Clapham Junction. He carried a short thick umbrella with a knob like a club, at the sight of which his Latin friend almost shed tears of sentiment; for it had figured in many adventures that they shared long ago. For this was the Frenchman’s English friend, Father Brown, paying a long-desired but long-delayed visit. They had corresponded constantly, but they had not met for years.

Father Brown was soon established in the family circle, which was quite large enough to give the general sense of company or a community. He was introduced to the big wooden images of the Three Kings, of painted and gilded wood, who bring the gifts to the children at Christmas; for Spain is a country where the affairs of the children bulk large in the life of the home. He was introduced to the dog and the cat and the live-stock on the farm. But he was also, as it happened, introduced to one neighbour who, like himself, had brought into that valley the garb and manners of distant lands.

It was on the third night of the priest’s stay at the little chateau that he beheld a stately stranger who paid his respects to the Spanish household with bows that no Spanish grandee could emulate. He was a tall, thin grey-haired and very handsome gentleman, and his hands, cuffs and cuff-links had something overpowering in their polish. But his long face had nothing of that languor which is associated with long cuffs and manicuring in the caricatures of our own country. It was rather arrestingly alert and keen; and the eyes had an innocent intensity of inquiry that does not go often with grey hairs. That alone might have marked the man’s nationality, as well the nasal note in his refined voice and his rather too ready assumption of the vast antiquity of all the European things around him. This was, indeed, no less a person than Mr. Grandison Chace, of Boston, an American traveller who had halted for a time in his American travels by taking a lease of the adjoining estate; a somewhat similar castle on a somewhat similar hill. He delighted in his old castle, and he regarded his friendly neighbour as a local antiquity of the same type. For Flambeau managed, as we have said, really to look retired in the sense of rooted. He might have grown there with his own vine and fig-tree for ages. He had resumed his real family name of Duroc; for the other title of “The Torch” had only been a title de guerre, like that under which such a man will often wage war on society. He was fond of his wife and family; he never went farther afield than was needed for a little shooting; and he seemed, to the American globe-trotter, the embodiment of that cult of a sunny respectability and a temperate luxury, which the American was wise enough to see and admire in the Mediterranean peoples. The rolling stone from the West was glad to rest for a moment on this rock in the South that had gathered so very much moss. But Mr. Chace had heard of Father Brown, and his tone faintly changed, as towards a celebrity. The interviewing instinct awoke, tactful but tense. If he did try to draw Father Brown, as if he were a tooth, it was done with the most dexterous and painless American dentistry.

They were sitting in a sort of partly unroofed outer court of the house, such as often forms the entrance to Spanish houses. It was dusk turning to dark; and as all that mountain air sharpens suddenly after sunset, a small stove stood on the flagstones, glowing with red eyes like a goblin, and painting a red pattern on the pavement; but scarcely a ray of it reached the lower bricks of the great bare, brown brick wall that went soaring up above them into the deep blue night. Flambeau’s big broad-shouldered figure and great moustaches, like sabres, could be traced dimly in the twilight, as he moved about, drawing dark wine from a great cask and handing it round. In his shadow, the priest looked very shrunken and small, as if huddled over the stove; but the American visitor leaned forward elegantly with his elbow on his knee and his fine pointed features in the full light; his eyes shone with inquisitive intelligence.

“I can assure you, sir,” he was saying, “we consider your achievement in the matter of the Moonshine Murder the most remarkable triumph in the history of detective science.”

Father Brown murmured something; some might have imagined that the murmur was a little like a moan.

“We are well acquainted,” went on the stranger firmly, “with the alleged achievements of Dupin and others; and with those of Lecoq, Sherlock Holmes, Nicholas Carter, and other imaginative incarnations of the craft. But we observe there is in many ways, a marked difference between your own method of approach and that of these other thinkers, whether fictitious or actual. Some have spec’lated, sir, as to whether the difference of method may perhaps involve rather the absence of method.”

Father Brown was silent; then he started a little, almost as if he had been nodding over the stove, and said: “I beg your pardon. Yes. . .. Absence of method. . . . Absence of mind, too, I’m afraid.”

“I should say of strictly tabulated scientific method,” went on the inquirer. “Edgar Poe throws off several little essays in a conversational form, explaining Dupin’s method, with its fine links of logic. Dr. Watson had to listen to some pretty exact expositions of Holmes’s method with its observation of material details. But nobody seems to have got on to any full account of your method, Father Brown, and I was informed you declined the offer to give a series of lectures in the States on the matter.”

“Yes,” said the priest, frowning at the stove; “I declined.”

“Your refusal gave rise to a remarkable lot of interesting talk,” remarked Chace. “I may say that some of our people are saying your science can’t be expounded, because it’s something more than just natural science. They say your secret’s not to be divulged, as being occult in its character.”

“Being what?” asked Father Brown, rather sharply.

“Why, kind of esoteric,” replied the other. “I can tell you, people got considerably worked up about Gallup’s murder, and Stein’s murder, and then old man Merton’s murder, and now Judge Gwynne’s murder, and a double murder by Dalmon, who was well known in the States. And there were you, on the spot every time, slap in the middle of it; telling everybody how it was done and never telling anybody how you knew. So some people got to think you knew without looking, so to speak. And Carlotta Brownson gave a lecture on Thought-Forms with illustrations from these cases of yours. The Second Sight Sisterhood of Indianapolis —— ”

Father Brown, was still staring at the stove; then he said quite loud yet as if hardly aware that anyone heard him: “Oh, I say. This will never do.”

“I don’t exactly know how it’s to be helped,” said Mr. Chace humorously. “The Second Sight Sisterhood want a lot of holding down. The only way I can think of stopping it is for you to tell us the secret after all.”

Father Brown groaned. He put his head on his hands and remained a moment, as if full of a silent convulsion of thought. Then he lifted his head and said in a dull voice:

“Very well. I must tell the secret.”

His eyes rolled darkly over the whole darkling scene, from the red eyes of the little stove to the stark expanse of the ancient wall, over which were standing out, more and more brightly, the strong stars of the south.

“The secret is,” he said; and then stopped as if unable to go on. Then he began again and said:

“You see, it was I who killed all those people.”

“What?” repeated the other, in a small voice out of a vast silence.

“You see, I had murdered them all myself,” explained Father Brown patiently. “So, of course, I knew how it was done.”

Grandison Chace had risen to his great height like a man lifted to the ceiling by a sort of slow explosion. Staring down at the other he repeated his incredulous question.

“I had planned out each of the crimes very carefully,” went on Father Brown, “I had thought out exactly how a thing like that could be done, and in what style or state of mind a man could really do it. And when I was quite sure that I felt exactly like the murderer myself, of course I knew who he was.”

Chace gradually released a sort of broken sigh.

“You frightened me all right,” he said. “For the minute I really did think you meant you were the murderer. Just for the minute I kind of saw it splashed over all the papers in the States: ‘Saintly Sleuth Exposed as Killer: Hundred Crimes of Father Brown.’ Why, of course, if it’s just a figure of speech and means you tried to reconstruct the psychogy — ”

Father Brown rapped sharply on the stove with the short pipe he was about to fill; one of his very rare spasms of annoyance contracted his face.

“No, no, no,” he said, almost angrily; “I don’t mean just a figure of speech. This is what comes of trying to talk about deep things. . . . What’s the good of words . . .? If you try to talk about a truth that’s merely moral, people always think it’s merely metaphorical. A real live man with two legs once said to me: ‘I only believe in the Holy Ghost in a spiritual sense.’ Naturally, I said: ‘In what other sense could you believe it?’ And then he thought I meant he needn’t believe in anything except evolution, or ethical fellowship, or some bilge. . . . I mean that I really did see myself, and my real self, committing the murders. I didn’t actually kill the men by material means; but that’s not the point. Any brick or bit of machinery might have killed them by material means. I mean that I thought and thought about how a man might come to be like that, until I realized that I really was like that, in everything except actual final consent to the action. It was once suggested to me by a friend of mine, as a sort of religious exercise. I believe he got it from Pope Leo XIII, who was always rather a hero of mine.”

“I’m afraid,” said the American, in tones that were still doubtful, and keeping his eye on the priest rather as if he were a wild animal, “that you’d have to explain a lot to me before I knew what you were talking about. The science of detection —— ”

Father Brown snapped his fingers with the same animated annoyance. “That’s it,” he cried; “that’s just where we part company. Science is a grand thing when you can get it; in its real sense one of the grandest words in the world. But what do these men mean, nine times out of ten, when they use it nowadays? When they say detection is a science? When they say criminology is a science? They mean getting outside a man and studying him as if he were a gigantic insect: in what they would call a dry impartial light, in what I should call a dead and dehumanized light. They mean getting a long way off him, as if he were a distant prehistoric monster; staring at the shape of his ‘criminal skull’ as if it were a sort of eerie growth, like the horn on a rhinoceros’s nose. When the scientist talks about a type, he never means himself, but always his neighbour; probably his poorer neighbour. I don’t deny the dry light may sometimes do good; though in one sense it’s the very reverse of science. So far from being knowledge, it’s actually suppression of what we know. It’s treating a friend as a stranger, and pretending that something familiar is really remote and mysterious. It’s like saying that a man has a proboscis between the eyes, or that he falls down in a fit of insensibility once every twenty-four hours. Well, what you call ‘the secret’ is exactly the opposite. I don’t try to get outside the man. I try to get inside the murderer . . . . Indeed it’s much more than that, don’t you see? I am inside a man. I am always inside a man, moving his arms and legs; but I wait till I know I am inside a murderer, thinking his thoughts, wrestling with his passions; till I have bent myself into the posture of his hunched and peering hatred; till I see the world with his bloodshot and squinting eyes, looking between the blinkers of his half-witted concentration; looking up the short and sharp perspective of a straight road to a pool of blood. Till I am really a murderer.”

“Oh,” said Mr. Chace, regarding him with a long, grim face, and added: “And that is what you call a religious exercise.”

“Yes,” said Father Brown; “that is what I call a religious exercise.”

After an instant’s silence he resumed: “It’s so real a religious exercise that I’d rather not have said anything about it. But I simply couldn’t have you going off and telling all your countrymen that I had a secret magic connected with Thought-Forms, could I? I’ve put it badly, but it’s true. No man’s really any good till he knows how bad he is, or might be; till he’s realized exactly how much right he has to all this snobbery, and sneering, and talking about ‘criminals,’ as if they were apes in a forest ten thousand miles away; till he’s got rid of all the dirty self-deception of talking about low types and deficient skulls; till he’s squeezed out of his soul the last drop of the oil of the Pharisees; till his only hope is somehow or other to have captured one criminal, and kept him safe and sane under his own hat.”

Flambeau came forward and filled a great goblet with Spanish wine and set it before his friend, as he had already set one before his fellow guest. Then he himself spoke for the first time:

“I believe Father Brown has had a new batch of mysteries. We were talking about them the other day, I fancy. He has been dealing with some queer people since we last met.”

“Yes; I know the stories more or less — but not the application,” said Chace, lifting his glass thoughtfully. “Can you give me any examples, I wonder. . . . I mean, did you deal with this last batch in that introspective style?”

Father Brown also lifted his glass, and the glow of the fire turned the red wine transparent, like the glorious blood-red glass of a martyr’s window. The red flame seemed to hold his eyes and absorb his gaze that sank deeper and deeper into it, as if that single cup held a red sea of the blood of all men, and his soul were a diver, ever plunging in dark humility and inverted imagination, lower than its lowest monsters and its most ancient slime. In that cup, as in a red mirror, he saw many things; the doings of his last days moved in crimson shadows; the examples that his companions demanded danced in symbolic shapes; and there passed before him all the stories that are told here. Now, the luminous wine was like a vast red sunset upon dark red sands, where stood dark figures of men; one was fallen and another running towards him. Then the sunset seemed to break up into patches: red lanterns swinging from garden trees and a pond gleaming red with reflection; and then all the colour seemed to cluster again into a great rose of red crystal, a jewel that irradiated the world like a red sun, save for the shadow of a tall figure with a high head-dress as of some prehistoric priest; and then faded again till nothing was left but a flame of wild red beard blowing in the wind upon a wild grey moor. All these things, which may be seen later from other angles and in other moods than his own, rose up in his memory at the challenge and began to form themselves into anecdotes and arguments.

“Yes,” he said, as he raised the wine cup slowly to his lips, “I can remember pretty well —— ”

===========

After all that, I wonder if I have to the humility to be the dog, Shadow-dog, not just “like” a dog, but, you know, a dog, and learn what Shadow-dog has to teach me.

After all that, I wonder if I have the humility to be understand just how bad and evil I myself can be, and thus think not just “like” a criminal, but as the criminal I am if I am without the grace of God, and thus be able to catch the criminal, because, you know, I’m him. Of course, when I catch a criminal it’s to bring him to the confessional. The best priests in the Confessional hearing confessions of others are the very priests who also make a practice of regular confession.

Or, heck, instead of all that I could just bait and wait for the counter-bait… and then counter-counter-bait, and then wait for the…

// Hey, I lost track of what’s being reacted to. PAUSE… Then…

Counter-counter-counter-counter-bait…

Counter-counter-counter-counter-counter-bait…

Counter-counter-counter-counter-counter-counter-bait…

Counter-counter-counter-counter-counter-counter-counter-bait…

// Pause… whew! Time to get out of counterintel…

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

So, let’s see, maybe there is something to just looking in oneself when looking for any and all criminals, any and all terrorists…. If we ever say, “I would never do that,” we’ve already lost the game. Honesty and integrity and humility admit that even if psychologically I probably wouldn’t do… you know… those crimes… because of my upbringing or whatever… nevertheless I probably would if given the circumstances that others have suffered and I were without God’s grace. Yep. There but for the grace of God go I. A bit aphoristic, I know. But so very, very true. Actually, people can change pretty fast. If one has the purity of heart and agility of soul to see that even one’s very self can do such things, it’s that person that will not do such things because of looking to God’s grace with honesty and integrity and humility. God doesn’t save me because I’m good. God saves me because I need saving and can’t save myself.

Then, when that Living Love who is God and that Living Truth who is God are with me, I can easily see the contrast of what would be bad and evil in myself and therefore what would be bad and evil in others. For law enforcement and counterintel this is also a boon to catching the criminal and the terrorist, regardless of culture, regardless of religion or none, regardless of anything else.

For a priest it’s all about more ably bringing people to Jesus. We priests need to get out of Jesus’ way and let Jesus be the priest in the parish.

We all need to let Jesus work through us, and with us, and in us. Needed: HUMILITY!

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Peter Strzok and lover Lisa Page compromising national security

The great Catherine Herridge reports that Strzok-Page texts suggest using post-election briefing to gather information on Trump team.

To be specific, as she reports, this is nine days after the presidential election, FBI agent Peter Strzok and FBI lawyer Lisa Page exchanged texts about “using briefings to the Trump team after the 2016 election to identify people they could “develop for potential relationships,” track lines of questioning and “assess” changes in “demeanor” – language one GOP lawmaker called ‘more evidence’ of irregular conduct in the original Russia probe.”

“Irregular conduct”? This is not just about spying on the new Trump administration. These briefings were informational national security sessions which either lay foundations for the incoming administration to prepare responses entrusted to them by the voting public or are routine but just as important as informational sessions on national security matters. If that very information is skewed by way of counterintelligence trickery of exaggeration or lack or with fishing by way of adding names or places or circumstances or pressures, as is the impossibly inescapable modus operandi of someone like Peter Strzok who spent his entire life doing this kind of thing, well, in that case, our national security has been compromised since the very beginning. Those informational briefings necessarily must be entirely trustworthy. But clearly they are not. This is playing not just with these USA, but with geopolitical viability. This is not just giving aid and comfort to the enemy, it actually points to Strzok being — what?

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Barr’s Bombshell Binneyless, for now

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Rod Rosenstein went way out of his way to discredit Bill Binney, not by name, not by dissing Bill’s speed-of-data-transfer demonstrations, but by way of providing another (and impossible) methodology of the spying done on the DNC.

DOJ Rod Rosenstein NSA Bill Binney

My question is: “Why is that?” I doubt Rod is a computer freak. He was advised. Who?

I suggest Dyncorp International Llc, perhaps at an outpost in Pensacola, repeat the repeatable demonstrations of Bill Binney. Just sayin’…

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Intelligence Identities Protection Act 1982 PubL 97–200 50 USC §§ 421–426

The Intelligence Identities Protection Act of 1982 (Pub.L. 97–200, 50 U.S.C. §§ 421–426) makes it a Federal crime – enforced with a penalty of a fine or up to three years in prison or both regarding anyone with or without whatever security clearance and access / need to know – to compromise directly or by patterned indications an asset / agent in extremely broadly defined circumstances (as assessed by courts in view of the bias of relevant agencies), regardless as to whether the scope of such a law compromises the Constitution and Constitutional rights of citizens in good standing, including their right to protect the viability of their very lives. Intent doesn’t matter.

Questions:

  • When does justice and equity – the spirit of the law – begin to assert that “rogue” assets / agents are not allowed to destroy citizens in good standing at will, you know, just to protect their own salaries, stipends, perks, retirement packages, or even to protect  agencies from embarrassment about programs that gravely compromise necessary geopolitical allies?
  • When criticism of a program isn’t enough to stop the treasonous-esque behavior of “rogue” individuals, will the outing of whatever “rogue” agent / asset be allowed?

In this law, the answer to both questions is never.

I take that back. In the very law, it’s just fine for agencies to provide a pattern by which their agents / assets are indicated, especially in a quiet manner, in a counterintel fashion, especially if this is done with those who will thus be baited in turn into providing a pattern by which such agents / assets are indicated in a more general manner, with such citizens thus being manipulated into contravening this law and thus making them liable to being conveniently remanded to prison for years at a time, thus protecting the same agents / assets.

Interesting year, that: 1982. Very interesting.

Sometimes justice and equity, love of God and love of neighbor, push citizens in good standing to do the necessary at whatever cost to themselves. It’s not all about money and sex and power for all people everywhere all the time. No.

Indeed, there are those who, when cornered, when up against a wall, and wanting to do the right thing, simply do what’s necessary to find a solution, as in the video above, in which I rejoice. That video is very short, and well worth the watch. You’ll get the point.

The more cynical among us should understand that the cynical use of a law meant to thwart seemingly treasonous activities can itself amount to treason, with penalties much greater than some fine or even three years in prison. A word to the wise.

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Rafi Eitan and Jon Jay Pollard? “I don’t know nothing!”

When Rafael “Rafi” Eitan died, I put up this notification:

Rafi Eitan! May you rest in peace. I hope to meet you in heaven. Your legacy lives!

I laughed out loud to then hear that he was the “handler” of Jay Pollard. Certainly I didn’t know that previously, not even in another life.

Some years ago, when walking into the main doors of the departures terminal at Tel Aviv International Airport, that is, נתב״ג, you know NATBAG or TLV, not even one of the dozen soldiers outside under the overhang stopped me, and so I just nonchalantly continued on my way inside until, another twenty meters inside, I was asked where I was going and I responded “Rome” and that soldier also let me go as that was consistent with one of the flights leaving at that time. So I continued, but only slowly, as I instantly felt a collective “disturbance in the force” outside, kind of like all the soldiers with one electrifying whisper saying, “Oh S#|+”. It took about three more seconds until I was surrounded by the same dozen soldiers from outside plus another dozen who came out of nowhere from inside.

Their questions: “Who is the special person you met? Who’s your contact? Give us a name. We want a name! Who is it?” Not knowing what they were talking about, they snatched a bit of computer junk I had bought, an Israeli-Hebrew keyboard, and brought it to a backroom for the longest time. They told me to sit off to the side where there was an agent to accompany me. After say, 40 minutes of them having an intense powwow, looking over at me every few seconds, and with me not wanting to be late for my plane, and with me also wanting to see if a Jedi-mind-trick would work, I simply waltzed over to the flight counter and checked in and went on my way, much to their consternation. They were visibly upset, breaking their pow-wow and turning toward me, but apparently they were under orders not to detain me further. They didn’t tell me I was free to go. As far as I knew, I wasn’t supposed to move. You simply just don’t disobey IDF soldiers with UZIs (or whatever it was ten years ago) in Tel Aviv International Airport. But I did. You find out stuff by pushing the envelope a bit. ;-)

It wouldn’t be for another six years that Jonathan Jay Pollard, an American CIA agent who gave ways and means secrets to Israel would be “released”, to this day not allowed to go to Israel. So, they weren’t expecting to hear “Jay.” Maybe they wanted to hear “Rafi,” a well known household name throughout the Jewish world.

I recall that relatively very recently another CIA guy asked if once then a dozen times about “Jay”, not giving any further name for a while, just “Jay”, testing to see if – now years after the restricted release of “Jay” – I could guess that he was talking about J.J. Pollard. I pushed him hard on it, and he addmitted it was Pollard he wanted to know about. But in asking that, he was really asking about “Rafi.”

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Cover-up part of original crime?

Even really smart people go about life making mistakes and then trying to cover-up for their mistakes, often making the cover-up worse than the crime, so much so that it has become an unhelpful mantra. The crime and the cover-up are both crimes, and desperation for cover-up often leads to that which is worse than what started the whole fiasco. That’s true.

But the two are not always to be so glibly separated from each other. Those whose profession it is to be calculating (pictured somewhere above) make the crime and the cover-up into one and the same, envisioned from the very beginning, which is much more difficult to uncover, much more difficult to do up a bit of oversight, of prosecution. The reason is not because it is all so obscure or difficult. No, no. It’s all the more plain to see. But even the most sophisticated are quite unwilling to wipe the sleep out of their eyes. Perhaps they are afraid of life. The combination of the crime and the cover-up is, at the same time, all the more far reaching, and its discovery leads one to the very core of the corruption at hand and itself forces an unraveling. It seems to me that by all accounts, purposes and reconstructions… […] “Palimpsest palimpsest”, ever so palimpsest.

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Fingerprints and nobody: “Everything about him is wrong.” Spy vs… himself.

I’ve seen almost no movies in my life. I have seen the above clip on YouTube. I applaud the quick-thinking question of The Equalizer: “‘We’ who?” and again “‘We’ who?”

And while the Russian spy playing a detective later states to his partner in crime about Robert McCall – “Everything about him is wrong” – that is the very thing that McCall is thinking about the Russian spy guy: “Everything about him is wrong.”

Here’s the deal: Sometimes there are things people say – or don’t say – that simply cannot be categorized as being “misspoken” or which are simply not intentionally not fulsome.

I’ve met people like this, perhaps more than has been the experience of others, perhaps because of my own weird background and perhaps because I come across as being a simpleton (not that I’m not) and naive (not that I’m not) and so am not worth the effort to try a little more (not that I am).

Some few people I’ve met right around the world have said things that scream, unbeknownst to them, that they were role-playing. Even worse, some few among them didn’t care that they were found out in that role-playing, and simply continued like it was all good.

Perhaps an example is in order. For instance, in one of my far-flung assignments that have taken me right around the world a number of times, I ran across a guy who said that the reason he never had a police check run on himself – virtue signalling guy that he was – was that when he himself was administering police checks on other people he didn’t have available to himself a fingerprint scanner for himself, “you know, one of those gadgety box things” he added. So, even though he could run police checks on others he couldn’t have that done for himself, but, you know, only because they didn’t have a fingerprint scanner gadgety box thing, as if having your prints run and having a police check done on your name are the same things, one dependent on the other. Um. No.

fingerprint scanner

If you didn’t follow the logic of that, don’t feel badly. There are so many things wrong with that assertion that it’s difficult to know where to begin. That’s not the way things are done on so very many levels regarding common sense and policy and – in that particular far flung place – local, state and federal law. And that’s true with just about everything that guy said. It’s like, that was the worst role-playing ever to have been witnessed upon the face of the earth, ever… Ehhh…vur

Just in case it isn’t obvious, let’s draw out a just a few points:

  • You don’t administer your own fingerprint scanning, a conflict of interest thing.
  • You don’t run your own fingerprints, a conflict of interest thing.
  • If you were trained in to do up fingerprints and/or run them, that would mean that you were actually law enforcement, but if that were true, you would have had to have had some kind of serious, thorough law enforcement check, including fingerprints run everywhere with all agencies, and so, in that case, why would you fake it that you never had your prints run and never had a police check?
  • Just because you’re not running fingerprints for anyone doesn’t mean you can’t permit your name to be investigated with a police check.

the doughnut cheltenham

Whether this guy was law enforcement – he did like Doughnuts (see above) – or was faking it, or even faking like it could be legitimately faked, is messed up in any case. Why bother with mind games? That guy claimed to have connections with a certain intel crowd in his country, as if, it seems to me, that would give him a pass, you know, like the virtue-signalling Snowden or the virtue-signalling Strzok, but I think that was just cover for his belonging to another agency between whom, as we say, there is no love lost.

pine gap surveillance australia

Whatever the case, he didn’t get anywhere with anything. What was scary – if anything can be scary – was his utter disregard for coming up with a credible story. He just didn’t care, because, surely, he’ll just bully his way through to a particular occupation and it would all be good. I wasn’t going to let that happen inasmuch as little me could do anything to make sure it didn’t happen. It was all too Camp Swampy:

you know what this is

Of course, nothing is at is seems.

another view

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“The cover declaration”: out of scope

chess board robert van der steeg impossible world

An instruction meant for just one reader: Counterintel is a kind of on-edge situational awareness. In the midst of exchanges intertwined with distracting complexities there is nothing that’s more of a gift than a gratuitous declaration or out-of-the-blue rather extraordinary demand or question. You can spot it a mile away as most probably a lie or a set up. Dig, dig, dig. It all turns out to be like BS in the snow. It’s own heat reveals it for what it is, just like a polygraph. No need for digging anymore with that which is so out of scope, especially when the examiner has reviewed all sorts of intel and so sees only further lies in the “explanations”:

dung snow

I have become aware of just such a case that came to me today from about 620.99 miles away as Air America flies, or 452.37 miles as Kryptos befuddles, or, more realistically, 855.39 miles as doubled up non-responsibilities oblige. That person knows who that person is. My only question is: Why?

For the rest of readers, let’s just say this: The best declarations having integrity are to be made in confession. No lying there. After all, God doesn’t lie about His forgiveness of us either. It’s not that a fresh blanket of snow covers over the BS with an absolution (as Luther thought) but rather that the BS is removed altogether, leaving us with the life of God so flooding into us that there is no room for guilt. We are left with purity of heart and agility of soul and the declaration that does not lie, namely, that, left to ourselves we are sinners and if there is anything good with us it is only by God’s grace. If one wants integrity, there it is.

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My history of taking bribes from intel, or not…

The following is just a starter list that I throw out off the cuff. I’m sure I can add to the list, but this will give you an idea.

I was a bit of a dullard back in the day, the mid-1980s. I was a deacon on my way to Nicaragua to deliver medicines to the Catholic clinics and Mass stipends to be distributed to priests by a religious community of nuns. On the way I sat next to a CIA guy working a cover as a communications guy for State at the local embassy in Managua (he was delivering massive cargo bins acting as his “diplomatic pouch”). This arrangement of being companions on the flight took two days for him to arrange, which delayed the trip. C’est la vie. Anyway, after what seemed like ten million questions on the longest portion of the flight leaving from Miami, he gave me his card and said that if I had any problems I was to request to see only him at the embassy. Usually, CIA are to keep their identities quiet, but conditions in Nicaragua were such that they let that rule be loosened up really a lot, kind of unique in the whole world. At one of the stops on the way, I think San Salvador, he watched over his cargo bins outside the plane, but then quick ran into the “airport.” He came out with an expensive bottle of whiskey, which he gave to me, asking me to give that to Cardinal Obando y Bravo of Managua who he knew I already had an appointment to see. Since it wasn’t for me, I thought this was acceptable. Maybe I am mistaken. Anyway, I was then obliged by the CIA Whiskey guy to see number 2 at the Embassy instead of himself within a period of 72 hours from landing. Sometimes, when they work with the naive, like me, they get what they want anyway.

Years later, over in Italy, the top brass of the anti-mafiosi of the Guardia di Finanza, insisted, strongly, repeatedly, with follow-ups, that I allow myself to be shuttled by police round about Italy, wherever I needed to go. All I had to do was to call the local police station and they would come with a car. Quite the bribe as I was at the time about 100 kms from Rome and local transport was often cancelled, meaning I would have to walk miles up a mountain. However, to his consternation, frustration, anger, I never took advantage of this offer. He was wanting me to spy on the Cardinals up in the apartments on top of San Callisto, which I’ve often called the Vatican’s Pentegon. I was, in fact, up there quite a bit. But the spying? Nope. Ain’t gonna happen. The pressure was put on for quite a number of years, sometimes benevolent pressure, sometimes malicious. Anything malicious I would follow up on right away until the cowardly backed down. That’s always the case.

This was going on about the same time the Italian Ministry of Defense wanted me to spy on some Mafiosi for them in southern Italy. The bribe was their offering me an assignment in a nice parish to be arranged by the liaison between the Ministry of Defense and the Holy See. The bribe came with the price of betraying penitents who came to sacramental Confession. Nope. Ain’t gonna happen. Meanwhile, stories of what happened to priests who didn’t cooperate were coming my way. Interesting, but not having effect.

So many stories flood into memory as I write this, but in an effort not to make this too long, let me just add some mentions of things from right around the world. There are those, particularly in the CIA, who are convinced that I am some sort of agent of said agency. You would think they would have noticed that I’m a priest. Anyway, the items or most extraordinary assignments I’ve been offered from which I could provide, um, information, are myriad. Since it’s not thought that I’m actually a priest (that being some sort of tricky cover, I guess), the bribes have sometimes been more, let’s say, secular in nature. For instance, I recall being shown NON-pornographic pictures of women which pictures nevertheless certainly objectified women also as sex objects. That may entice some 007 guy to go along with whatever so as “get some”, but I’m married to the Church with the wedding vows at the consecrations at Holy Mass. And anyway, also someone who is not a priest should not be interested in objectifying women or in taking advantage of pre-objectified women.

I call to mind a certain bribe that was given by the chief priests and received by the Apostle Judas Iscariot, thirty pieces of silver, the price at which they valued the Son of the Living God.

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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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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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Filed under Intelligence Community, Missionaries of Mercy, Politics, Pope Francis

John Stalin Brennan Russian Bear discontinued for bottom feeding

2656~26308639594091155207..jpg

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 […]

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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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Last time I read a Tom Clancy novel…

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“Uneven pacing…” Sounds like my life… Thank you for this. My last and only other was Sum of All Fears. It reminds me I have to write up the memorial for the Joyce Kilmer centenary memorial service on July 30 up in the Forest named after him. He was in the famed Rainbow Division. More on that later. I’m actually excited about reading Rainbow Six. The last time I read a Tom Clancy novel I wrote my own (which I only half put up). This may get me reinvigorated. With all the other stuff going on, I may be able to add some further intrigue, and a sequel, as if there wasn’t enough intrigue and me already not having an unpublished thought. ;-)

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²¹ºPo – murder portraying a suicide faked to be murder… or…

210Po

“The use of lead-bismuth as a coolant offers several advantages as a liquid metal coolant for fast reactors. A low melting point, very high boiling temperature, and stability in air are characteristics of lead-bismuth that can contribute to the safety inherent with liquid metal reactors. Consideration of a lead-bismuth must weight the possible drawbacks caused by the presence of Polonium-210, which is produced by neutron activation of the bismuth. This paper describes the results of a test program to evaluate the potential of Polonium to impact the design and safe operation of the reactor.”

— Abstract on Polonium hazards associated with lead bismuth used as a reactor coolant presented by the INIS Repository.

For some reason, I now recall the LMFBR guy who came to the parish. Stupidly, I just couldn’t place him at the time. For some reason, just now, ²¹ºPo comes to mind, and the question as to how to irradiate a microgram or even less of ²¹ºPo comes to mind. LMFBR.

Anyway, he showed up again at the same time as the enhanced interrogation / assassination GTMO guys showed up. All of them would know of the one time short-lived interest of Yasser Arafat and Alexander Litvinenko with just the very tiniest bit of ²¹ºPo.

Bill Binney was mentioned in the context of murder as “suicide” by the intel guys. But the purpose of that ever so strange meeting was to discuss the viability, so to speak, of another person altogether. Anyway, the LMFBR guy is checking out a few things for me. He’s in a different line of work than mere LMFBR. Just to say, one of the GTMO guys has everything in the nuclear and medical worlds down cold, as it were, so to speak.

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DOJ Rosenstein vs NSA Bill Binney: GRU, indictment… murder as suicide

(1) Rosenstein’s unethical indictment

Number two at the Department of Justice, Assistant Attorney General, Rod Jay Rosenstein just made an indictment of twelve Russian spies, really of Russia itself, as they belong to Russia’s GRU, equivalent to our NSA, CIA, Гла́вное разве́дывательное управле́ние, Main Directorate of the General Staff of the Russian Armed Forces, descendant of the KGB.

This indictment is entirely unethical, immoral, manipulative, utterly political for the reason that there is zero hope of any trial. An indictment must never be made when there is no hope of a trial. The impression is that those indicted are guilty even though there has been no due process. This is the easiest thing in the world to do. You can indict a ham sandwich, but especially a Russian ham sandwich. It means nothing on one level, but has consequences for politics on another level. This was done immediately before Trump’s trip to speak with Putin. Oh. Politics. A political Department of Justice. Rosenstein is totally discredited. Rosenstein thinks the American people are so stupid that they can’t see through his manipulations.

[[UPDATE: Hahaha!  ]]

DOJ Rod Rosenstein NSA Bill Binney

(2) DOJ Rosenstein’s smacking down of NSA’s William Binney

Bill Binney was by far the NSA’s greatest genius, the guy who could come up with a simple answer that perfectly worked, getting actionable intel for otherwise impossible complexities, time and again. When things got political with our national security, subjecting these USA to terrorist attacks, Mr Binney became a whistle blower.

Meanwhile, during the announcement of the indictment, Rosenstein went on to speak about “Guccifer 2.0,” putting himself at odds with verifiable, repeatable experiments first brought to the fore by Mr Binney, that is, about transfer speeds necessitating not a hack, but a local hardware download. I find it interesting that Rosenstein went out of his way to indicate that this was all mere piecemeal internet hacking, when provably it was not just that.

When Trump had our ex-CIA Director and now Secretary of State Mike Pompeo utilize Binney’s know-how, some thought this looked bad for Trump, but that is not a necessary conclusion. When the best people in the world say something, like Mr Binney, one should listen to what they say. That’s always a good idea regardless of anything else.

(3) Murder as “suicide”: Bill Binney

As Rosenstein was preparing his strange statement about the indictment, I myself got a visit from a group of our top “Humint” counterintelligence, counterterrorism crowd, at the very top of their game, who are privy to plans and plots and all that goes on in that dark world, also by way of enhanced interrogation of the worst of the worst. Some would say that such knowledge is ill-gotten. At any rate, these are the guys and gals involved. At least that’s what they say they were, and perhaps they were at one time, but now, are… are… are… maybe just a bunch of nice guys who want nothing more than to protect Bill Binney.

Firstly, let me state that I am forever mistaken as being someone else in that someone stole my identity when I was just a teenager. The FBI and Main State, in consort, offered me a false passport, wanting to give this guy total access to my identity even while I was supposed to disappear entirely. I’m on (1) a perpetual and (2) an interdepartmental program, meaning (1) all details have been destroyed so that nothing can be connected with anyone higher up the chain (a common exercise) and so that no one’s op can be accidentally revealed by another department, and (2) my actual identity as opposed to the one who stole it cannot be unmasked except through a summary held personally only by the Secretary of State and the Director of the CIA (as was repeated to me, again, this time by Main State this past year). It is what it is, a kind of curse with strange visits through the decades. After all these decades, they have no idea whether I’m me or the guy who stole my identity.

Having said that, our “Humint” crowd gave me what the obviously ranking officer told me was an “assignment”, that is, to note well a possible upcoming murder made to look like “suicide” of Bill Binney. The word assignment is rather interesting. As one of our top guys in the DoD who accompanied me to this meeting said about the word assignment: “Oh s#|+”. But maybe they just want me to write about it so as to help protect Bill Binney. I don’t know. It wouldn’t mean anything if anyone else said it. But it’s these guys, whoever they are. This could be an assignment if I’m actually instead the person who stole my identity – to protect or take out Bill Binney – or it could just be a “counterintelligence product” which seeks a reaction or lack of reaction or change in behavior, whatever. Everything says something even if nothing is at it seems. If I follow up on the assignment in either way, then they know. If I don’t, then they are still wondering, except in this case there look to be a number of Strzok style “insurance policies.” It’s just the way things are done.

Insurance policies aggravate me. I’m a priest. I don’t like innocent people getting hurt. And they won’t if I can help it, part of the motivation for this blog post.

Not wanting anyone to get hurt includes the guy who stole my identity. I have no idea if he’s connected with any of this. He did Mexico. He’s into Syria (which involves Russia). But this? I don’t know. Whatever about him, he’s protected. No one will touch him, or me for that matter. That’s how “perpetual programs” work. Well, unless…

UPSHOT:

  • Bill Binney should watch his back. It’s not a good sign, one way or another, when these kind of people make intense comments about one’s demise.
  • Rod Rosenstein should stop doing unethical things.
  • Whatever about the aforementioned visit to yours truly, there is something which was related to me and then confirmed two days later back on 28 and 30 June 2017 by a certain division of Main State which would act as the insurance policy of Strzok. I pushed on that a while back. In involves counterintelligence and counterterrorism and the viability of our national security. Come to think of it, so does everything Bill Binney, and that Division of Main State. But, as it is…
  • Maybe I should start baiting baiters once again.

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Strzok’s future tense insurance policy

strzok insurance policy

Peter Strzok sent a *text* about Trump to Lisa Page concerning how a meeting in Andy McCabe’s office played out. Lisa wants to know why Strzok embarrassed her in front on Andy, dissing her short-sighted plan in favor of his own, which includes an “insurance policy.” So, Strzok says to her:

“I want to believe the path you threw out for consideration in Andy’s office—that there’s no way he gets elected—but I’m afraid we can’t take that risk. It’s like an insurance policy in the unlikely event you die before you’re 40.”

A life insurance policy isn’t put into effect until death comes about. In the analogy, the election of Trump is the death. So, to be pedantic, what happened in the meeting based on this text is as follows:

  • Lisa Page presented a plan merely to make sure that Trump would not get elected. That’s bad enough, but that’s all she has.
  • Peter Strzok has another plan, an insurance policy, which he had presented, stomping down Lisa’s lesser plan. Strzok’s own plan, his insurance policy, is to do something that will remove Trump should he in fact get elected. This is the object back-referenced with “It’s.”

The effective date of Strzok’s insurance policy coming into play does NOT refer to a pre-election time period, but only from the announcement moving forward that Trump has won the election.

And now Strzok is being backed into a corner. People do bad stuff when they are backed into corners. He could put his insurance policy into play at any time. I’m guessing that he doesn’t want to wait much longer. They are so sure of themselves that they can still make it happen. Way overconfident. People make mistakes when they are overconfident. And they have made a mistake.

Just a note to some “friends”: Extortion speaks to the players, to the motives, to those involved. It puts just a bit too much of an edge on things. It’s a mistake.

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The blog slowing down doesn’t mean…

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Of course, just because the blog slowed down for a while doesn’t mean that things haven’t been at breakneck speed. I’m still racing around to the shut-ins and the hospitals and nursing homes (the picture above being an on-the-way shot. The blog slowing down for just a bit could mean that things have been moving along faster than ever. I hope that doesn’t mean motus in fine velocior. Let’s just say: motus velocior.

Someone showed up recently – Army (counter)intel for years and now a handler for another rather important counterterrorism intel guy – to insist on giving me what he called an “assignment”, namely, considering the fact that if the demise of someone, obviously known to me (an insurance policy) were to come about such a person will not deliberately have committed suicide (a method of the CIA). Obviously there is a very specific person with a very specific intention to murder another very specific person in a way that makes it look like suicide and I should know, of all people, that that isn’t going to be a suicide but rather a murder. There were five individuals known to me who were individuated. So, there’s some sort of ultimatum being provided about what, I don’t know – or else – so that I had better stop whatever it is I’m doing that counterterrorism is interested in having me stop pursuing. I mean, there are a couple of things, one, in fact, that is rather far reaching and which involves counterterrorism and which would be embarrassing to a lot of people. I’ve been spending some time consulting on this with some rather in-the-know people, on a Federal level.

If anyone knows anything about me its that I don’t cave in to pressure. Ever. No compromise. Never. What is life if one sells out honesty and integrity and goodness and kindness and truth and respect for others, for individuals without whom there is no common good?

Meanwhile, I love being the country parish priest who brings Jesus in the Most Blessed Sacrament to people. But I would never compromise to keep that privilege either. :-)

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Wray Rosenstein Strzoked out as puppeteers of IGs, FISA Court judges

“I, the Inspectors General and FISA Court Judges, Wray Rosenstein Strzok, hereby declare that members of any Congressional Oversight for the judiciary, for counterterrorism, for counterintelligence, for anything, although enjoying the highest levels of clearance, cannot ever run a true oversight operation in any setting as they are not allowed ever to know how we are conducting any of our activities, you know, while these are ongoing, and it is only I who can say what is active.”

Or am I wrong?

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