When asked about Rosenstein’s indictment of twelve Russian GRU spies, Putin, of course, with a chuckle, invited Mueller and his investigators to come to Moscow to question them, adding, of course, with a chuckle, and entirely predictably, that his own investigators would then come to these USA to interrogate our own spies. Sounds fair, but what’s the upshot and why is this betrayal of the intelligence community? Because extensive proof would be wanted. We would have to reveal connections, contacts, assets, methods, capabilities, ways and means of all kinds. At any rate, that’s impossible on both sides, not just because neither side would want to do this, but because neither side could. The levels of impossible to overcome levels of physical deniability built into all programs, all actions, all deliveries of any kind of communications will stop any investigation in its tracks, even if everyone would sincerely want to cooperate. I mean, if you think you know something, a discovery, it’s only because it is desired by your opposition that you think this way.
Tag Archives: Department of State
(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! ]]
(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…
- 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.
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.
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. :-)
Back at the end of 2016 I had written a post thanking whoever it was had paid for my parking ticket in DC when I was visiting Main State. In the comments section of that post I mentioned that it seems The Company paid for that ticket (as only they could), seeing that they visited the blog at the same time I had tried to pay that ticket and at the same time as I was putting up that post. Were they trying ever so nicely to send me a hint that The Company was claiming the credit of paying the ticket to show how nice they are? I like that. Very cool. But was that an accurate interpretation of their “visit”?
Not long after that, while researching Main State a bit, I came across a video of seminar given by a guy who doesn’t belong to Main State, but has an office at Main State, who does stuff in all sorts of countries right around the world and is often in the middle of policy mixed up with some pretty aggressive action, with that CV usually belonging as a cover to a CIA guy (as I found out just the other day from […]. It is what it is. That video seminar guy (a recruiting video for his office at Main State) is the one I had seen when I first saw the parking ticket. He was in the car behind me. He’s obviously the guy I was originally supposed to see at Main State. So, then I gave that guy credit for paying my ticket, but later I had marked that latter post “private” for whatever reason.
Meanwhile, yesterday, going some hundreds of miles to bring a parishioner to a hospital near Asheville, we were having a conversation about spooky stuff, you know, CIA, FBI, et alii. I mentioned this parking ticket story, giving credit to whoever for paying the ticket for me. Right after that, as I was to find out perusing my phone in the waiting room of that hospital, that first post got a direct hit with a provenance just outside the doors of the George Bush Intelligence Center, HQ of the CIA. Hahaha. ;-) I’m sure it’s all just a coincidence. As always. Just my ever so fertile imagination.
But the phone thing is weird. I had all tracking and whatever turned off a few months ago on my phone. I got a call from the head of the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest crowd , wanting me to possibly head up the centennial memorial service coming up on July 30. O.K. We then hung up. At the time, I was no where near that Memorial Forest, nor had I been. Seconds later I got a communication from Google saying that since I was obviously an authority on the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest[!], could I answer a few questions for them. That says a lot about voice to text algorithms.
The logistics of operational structures in Northeast Virginia, adjacent Maryland and associated field interests were clarified for me the other day in regard to my “Shadow” to the effect that there was an inescapable indication as to those for whom my “Shadow” has been working all these decades, really since the very beginning. And now he knows I know. So, he appreciates my texting him the following:
I just figured you out. I’m a bit slow. I had some help. You should’ve just told me. Pretty funny if you ask me. I’m cool with that. Just be good. Avoid evil. Have your soul straight with God.
That was sincere. I mean, I am a priest, after all. I want everyone to have their souls right with God, even the one who stole my identity so as to do things with it internationally and totally unknown to me for the longest time, that is, at the behest of those for whom he works. But, I suppose, my admonition to him also involved a little bit of baiting.
It worked. His response was to give me a heads up about what the relationship is between me and those for whom he works, regardless of any loyalty of mine to all that is patriotic, all that is good and holy, and this, by playing off a recent post on this blog involving the extremity of such loyalty and that particular center on this blog: Metallica: Nothing Else Matters (Analysis of the lyrics). Nice, that response of his, giving me a heads up and all. Not that I didn’t know that. After all, this has been going on for decades and the relevant Division of Main State and later the FBI confirmed this for me on their own initiative. As I’ve always said, my life is an open book, more than any polygraph or other means could ever drag out of me or ascertain (I mean, should I ever have been signed up for said company myself).
In more recent years, especially in recent months, especially in recent weeks, especially in recent days and hours, despite that initial niceness, my “Shadow” has been playing up baiting me into having a syndrome originally called Norrmalmstorgssyndromet but now recalls the city in which an incident occasioned analysis: the Stockholm Syndrome.
I’m guessing he’s sincere on one level, but is so caught up in his rationalizations that he just doesn’t see his own baiting in reverse. Or not that. Maybe I’ve been baiting him to bait me. Maybe we’re just pretending to out-manipulate each other. But, after all, in his mind, if he’s done wrong and I don’t like that, maybe he feels the oppression of my not liking being taken advantage of with my name being used. He’s a “victim”[!], well, until I cave and work with him for the company. But maybe, from my perspective, I can capitalize on all that. He will read this, of course.
The trouble with him making that baiting me into a Stockholm Syndrome a success is that I’m already so bad and evil that I’m already in a pre-skeptical state, a kind of self-aware situational awareness of all that which is bad and evil. Nothing has changed with all of this. Not even with the heating up of incidents, not even with the recent exaggeration of the “accompaniment” when I travel as promised by Main State and the FBI. I still have a request and I still have something to say to the FBI and CT at Liberty Crossing Campus that dwarfs this idiocy between my “Shadow” and me.
We had a Knights of Columbus Fish Fry April 20, 2018 at Holy Redeemer parish in Andrews, N.C., so as to raise money for the local Special Olympics. I would have to be there, of course, just then, in the parking lot to go up to the parish hall. As I got out of my car, a jogger, say, in his sixties, jogged up to me, stopped, and we had this conversation:
- Jogger: It’s good to see you.
- Me: Good to see you too. [But I’m wondering who he is. Bad memory, I guess.]
- Jogger: I wanted to come by and bother you but… ’cause we got conversations to have but…
- Me: O.K. [I say “O.K.”, but the plural “conversations” is a most extraordinary usage, and bothers me. I’ve never heard it before in my life. It’s always singular. Except when there are disparate topics that have been piling up, like tasks to accomplish. My bad and evil suspicions will be justified. These conversations will not be about the faith. As we’ll see below, he thinks my present life, perhaps ‘cover’, as a priest who also writes this blog, is a total waste of time, in which he has zero interest.]
- Jogger: Haven’t gotten around to it.
- Me: We’ll get there.
- Jogger: Yeah.
- Me: O.K. [So, I’m waiting for a hint. And here it is:]
- Jogger: Did you do any research on liquid metal fast breeder reactors?
- Me: No!!!!!!! That’s what I need to do!!!!!!! [Sorry, but I’m really bad and evil. I was using the loud voice of a sarcastic Matt Damon with an unrelenting Robin Williams from the few clips I’ve seen of Good Will Hunting on YouTube. My unnamed interlocutor continues with an incisive sarcasm all his own, as if my life as a
janitor– err… I mean… priest… – isn’t good enough, especially the bit about the total waste of time, he thinks, of my writing this blog. I should stop hiding away in this tiniest of all parishes. But, mind you, I absolutely love this parish in these mountains. Love it. He says:]
- Jogger: Well, I know, I mean, I know you got nothin’ else to do but write. Hahahahaha.
- Me: That would be a good one down the way. Yes, that’s for sure.
- Jogger: Now, you’re, George, right? Byers?
- Me: Yes. [Because he can’t believe my denial.]
- Jogger: Good! [[Then, as he started to jog away, he said:]] Bye! We’ll be up in a little bit.
He could see that I was a priest with all the black and the Roman collar, and that I was physically at that moment at that parish, obviously, but he still wasn’t sure of my identity (I could be a guest priest after all), so he asked if his prior knowledge of my name was correct, you know, after my denial about working on LMFBRs.
interrogations – err… – conversations are in store for me. “Researching”, mind you, on LMFBRs doesn’t refer to summaries of the history or findings of others throughout the decades, (what a waste of time that would be) but rather on the LMFBRs themselves, which is the only way to do anything, the only reason why anyone’s knowledge would have any value whatsoever. Maybe he’s offering me a job. Could be about doing active research, could be about doing something about some LMFBRs in some other way. But maybe asking about someone’s wherewithal with LMFBRs in whatever way just to do it is a normal thing at the ol’ fish-fry, right? I mean that’s a normal conversation to have, right? Maybe it’s a task to accomplish as a favor, and then, maybe, Main State will listen to a request of mine. We’ll see.
But I still expect this guy to come back with his friends and have a wee chat with me. Blog posts like this are merely one of those nothing is as it seems things, right?
I never look in my spam box, ever. But I did now so as to retrieve a registration link from a D.O.C. communications group so as to set up an account enabling me to connect all the more easily with Father Gordon MacRae, right from his cell. Very cool, that.
But there were just a few other spams in the box, and one caught my eye, as it involved the name of my “Shadow”. I did NOT open the message, but a preview pop-up revealed a hit list targeting Setraco Group out of Beirut, a construction company in 30 countries with 20,000 employees. There were hints as to the sender. There was a picture of the target. Setraco’s world offices are in an ultra-ritzy suburb, of course. They’ve suffered quite a number of very specific, directed, assassinations from ISIS elsewhere.
As I write this, my “Shadow” is going ballistic, as I simply mentioned the word Setraco to him. Nothing else. He instantly – instantly – launched into a diatribe about Syria (his favorite stomping grounds) and Putin and WMD and the Mossad and terrorism and on and on. How did he know that would actually be precisely on point, not having heard of Setraco and not having even a second to look them up before responding? Meanwhile, as I write this and text him, I get a call from Mexico (his other favorite stomping grounds) giving me a name. This is boring. I need something more exciting. I need to pay some car insurance.
The parting shot of my “Shadow” is that I am a terrorist. He’s really fuming. I said nothing in all this. I just mentioned the name Setraco and all hell broke loose. But, as I always say, nothing is as it seems.
For those who know, this is another one of those “for the record” posts. My “Shadow” is back to the monetary bribe / extortion thing. Coincidentally, he mentioned that he’s been robbed of the computer on which he does all his analysis of Syria. Interesting, that. His missive came in after stepping off the plane. But I digress. The plane thing is for another post.
Catherine Herridge is my most favorite reporter in the world, a true heroine in both her private and public life. For me, she’s followed closely by Matt Schrier, one of those “I just don’t care what happens to me if the story is important for the common good of the world” kind of guys. Catherine has taken up Matt’s cause. Read that story to the end.
Long story short, the CIA and others among the alphabet crowd used Schrier as a sacrificial lamb, making sure NOT to rescue him, making sure to keep him hostage in Syria, so that they could feed their own careers claiming successful data collection at his expense, you know, with the excuse that their own career advancement was for the common good of the world.
In the Constitution, what separates the USA from, say, terrorist or Marxist countries is that (1) we hold the individual to have God-given rights, (2) that it is never better that one man die than that a whole nation perish because, instead, we believe self-defense is a positive contribution to the virtue of justice. We will go to war over one hostage. Or we did do that. And we do that now, don’t we? We rescue hostages, not endanger their lives, right?
Matt’s terrorist captors stole his identity, the how and why and results all provably known by our intelligence services who were happy to track him instead of his terrorist captors since his terrorist captors were using his identity. They obtained in this way a wealth of information about the terrorists, it is true, but totally at his expense, he, by the way, not being a military or intelligence operator, he being tortured the whole time. Matt was now a Department of State “perpetual” “program.”
What no one counted on, what no one wanted, was that, incredibly, Matt, beaten and tortured, escaped. Instead of finding help from our intelligence services back stateside, he’s been smashed down by them, dismissed by him, marginalized into the darkest of existential peripheries by them. “Go away! Leave us alone! Go live in a homeless shelter!” He’s frustrated at their intransigence as his life continues to be their collateral damage, wreckage in the wake of self-absorbed self-congratulations of members of our intelligence community.
Omertà, the mafioso rule of silence, is out of date, and is appropriate only for low-level thugs and buffoons; it’s for mafia, cartels, corrupt law enforcement. Instead of simple omertà, the CIA, FBI, DoJ and DoS have something much more advanced, much more practical, devious, all absolving; it’s called the “interdepartmental rule,” the mother of all omertà.
This applies to Matt Schrier and is what is stopping the great Catherine Herridge in her tracks. If a “program” like Matt is “interdepartmental” – meaning that it involves various departments, CIA, FBI, the Pentagon with the Department of Defense, and so on, the Department of State (Main State) blocks all attempts by whoever even among those groups to know anything more about that program. If you already know and you are tasked, you already know what you need to know. No one else knows anything or can know anything. Only the Secretary of State or the Director of the CIA can “unmask” either persons or facts about that “program”, something that, if it’s interdepartmental, just isn’t going to happen. The reason is that one crowd can be doing something which simply absolutely cannot be known, cannot be betrayed, not even to another trusted part of what department, as this might well directly put the national security of these USA in dire straits. If another part of a department knows something because they are also tasked with something, this is independent of other parts of other departments, who can even be purposely tasked against each other, unwittingly of course. This lack of communication also hurts us terribly, of course, but it is deemed much more expedient than a sharing of information among our own intelligence operators. To repeat because it is so unexpected: “interdepartmental” doesn’t mean more sharing of information; it means that there must commonly be less sharing as no one should know what is known, it being just that sensitive, um, you know, for the sake also of covering one’s back end. After all, who wants to be known as the one who purposely put Matt at risk as a sacrificial lamb? It’s just un-American.
When I saw this story I sighed. It is all too familiar to me. As long time readers know, I have long been told – dismissed is a better word – by Main State because my own case of stolen identity – this time by someone protected by, working for our alphabet crowd – is a case which is “interdepartmental” and therefore all records of it have been destroyed with a summary remaining only with the Secretary of State and the Director of the CIA, something which even an Undersecretary Ambassador of Main State, I am told, would not have the authority to even inquire about. That’s just two down from the POTUS. Dangers to national security for that which is “interdepartmental” are just that great.
As with Matt Schrier I was told by Main State that it is not the person who stole my identity that would be tracked, but rather me, since it is my identity that is being used. Main State and the FBI then offered me a false identity, which, at the time, because of just being ordained a priest, I turned down. Note that they wanted to protect the guy who stole my identity and make me, a citizen in good standing, disappear with no life. Ironically, a new identity is exactly what Matt wanted but couldn’t get. What I’m afraid of is that in the rare occurrences in which sacrificial lambs of our alphabet crowd find out that they are being used at great risk to themselves they are ignored, not helped, left in dire straits (as is the case with Matt Schrier, who has suffered so terribly), because of something which I myself did way back in the day. I rejected the new identity.
Based on what went on in our consulate in Rome when I went to renew my passport decades ago, when I was instead given a false passport without me asking for it, a “solution” put forward by Main State and the FBI, and based on their terrible disappointment when I turned it down, a disappointment that they continued to express to me for some months, basically telling me how stupid I was in not accepting their offer, and based on their locking me out after rejecting their solution, I’m guessing that a new policy was then created to never again give a false identity to one of their sacrificial lambs but rather just ignore them, no matter what, blaming the “interdepartmental rule.”
Now, it’s not that the alphabet crowd has lost sight either of me or Matt. It’s that they are so at ease in sacrificing others for their own gain. Matt was held hostage. He escaped not only because he escaped his terrorist captors, but somehow evaded our intelligence services during his escape. I’m quite sure we ourselves would have captured him and delivered him right back into the hands of the terrorist crowd if we could remain unknown to all. As my own identity stealer said to me when I expressed concern that I could end up being a captive because of what he was doing in my name, my going to prison because of what he did was just part of the job, all just part of it, you just do it and you get over it because that’s just the way it is. You know, it’s all for the common good. But he signed up for that life, not me. That’s not a problem, not for him, not for Main State.
There is no common good possible when God-given rights of individuals are ignored.
This is not just a Catholic or Jewish thing about rights (me being a Jew and a Catholic priest and Matt being a Jew). No, no. This isn’t about pressure group entitlement. This is about natural law, common to all peoples of all times and cultures and nations. Oh, and that’s why it’s a Catholic and Jewish thing, and why it’s a thing for our Constitution. This is who we are. Those who have thrown this away, hiding behind – oooooh – the “interdepartmental rule” for the sake, they say, of the common good, are to have their superiors investigated for betraying these USA because of betraying individuals. It’s not just Matt. Or me. There are untold numbers of individuals. Enough is enough.
I admit that the first second I saw this package apparently with no labels outside the rectory door this morning my first thought was the package-bombs in Austin, Texas. The drivers for UPS, USPS and FEDEX all know me and all leave the packages under the carport to the side of the rectory. This was was soaked in yesterday’s rain. It all looks bad, thought I, not wanting to be paranoid.
Then I remembered! Dearest Charlene, my most favorite person of the U.S. Department of State, the most unafraid diplomat I know, told me a couple of days ago that I should expect a package with treats for Laudie-dog and Shadow-dog. I grabbed it and turned it about, finding the labels which confirmed the whole story. Ripping it open, I gave both dogs a taste of their multitude of treats. Thanks, Charlene.
Usually there was something for Father George-donkey, but, well, O.K., it’s still Lent and there shouldn’t be any treats for me. ;-)
We pray for the victims, victims families and law enforcement, for all those who suffer terrorism right around the world. Hail Mary…
Remember my “Shadow”? He’s the guy who stole my identity decades ago to get a clean identity to travel under so as to do arms transfers to straw purchasers for upstart cartels, specifically that of Sinaloa. He was a program runner for DoS shenanigans, inextricably entrenched under my name. He wants to send monthly “payments” to me. For what? Paying me for the use of my identity to commit crimes? Thirty pieces of silver for all those murdered with the AK-47s and mountains of ammo he transferred to the worst murderers South of the border? [By the way, these interdepartmental State Department programs are never about just guns, but rather about disrupting governments and economies. Giving weapons to the most adept murderers really helps.] For years, my “Shadow” wanted me to purchase vehicles for him, put my name on his properties, get a property for him in my parish right now. I’ve never done any of those things and none of these “payments” are for any of that. He says that the amount will be at least as much as 8% of his adjusted gross income. If your bleeding heart bleeds for this never repented guy and you are making excuses for him and you think he’s ever so sweet and nice and that I’m just an ol’ meanie who needs to give it all a break, take a breath. Having done that…
If you know what the rules are for Federal Income tax right now in these USA, just stare at that 8% for a moment and figure out what he’s doing, I mean, you know, considering that I’m a pastor of a 501c3 church. Money laundering. Get it? It falls under the RICO act (racketeer influenced corrupt organizations act). I mean, did I extort him for “payments” as a way to get back at him in some way? Anyway, I expect all that from him. So when I see rubbish like this, what I do is not stare at him, stunned by his behavior; instead, I look with disgust at Main State. They know this is going on, laughing. It’s their program. Great headline though: Pope Francis’ Jewish-Catholic-Priest Missionary of Mercy imprisoned for racketeering. The State Department owes it to me to get me out of this.
They know the bit of blue I want. They all have it.
It would solve really a lot of things.
Like Stzrok and McCabe and Comey and the whole sorry lot of the them in upper hierarchy of the FBI, Main State bad actors are plenteous. They made a mistake on 28 and 30 June 2017. There are recordings. I won’t give up. My going to prison, framed, won’t stop me. To the FBI and Main State: go ahead and ask Secretary Mike Pompeo and Director Gina Haspel when they get confirmed for a summary of my case and that of my “Shadow.” Can’t do it, can you? It would devolve back on you, wouldn’t it? A little too much Fast and Furious? Pope Francis is right about the sin of corruption. Hey! I’m all about forgiveness, but as John the Baptist says: Bear the fruits of repentance.
The first time the FBI laughed with glee, in my face, was when they found out that I knew about their program of gunrunning using my identity (yes, you read that right), immediately supplying me with a false passport without me asking for it, protecting their gray-man who was using my name and wanting me, the squeaky clean U.S. Citizen in good standing, to disappear from the face of the earth, giving up being a priest, giving up being in contact with siblings and friends. Leaving all projects of a lifetime behind. I’ll say it’s their program since they cooperated with the State Department with the passport thing and they seemed to know everything there is to know about the program.
Every time since then that I had a “See something say something” event going on, they did the creepy thing:
“If you see something, say something.”
“No no no!” “See something, say something” thing is a total lie. No one cares.
Like the Florida school shooting.
In fact, you become a target for knowing too much. So what if people die?
It puts most people off. But a few, perhaps very few, get somewhat entrenched and insist on saying something about what they saw. Do that and you end up like the naive investigator guy in Lord of War, disillusioned:
That five minute scene sums up the last 40 some years of my life. Truly. You would think that after 40 years I would be delivered from this. But no. As Main State told me in 1992 and as the FBI told me in 1996, the program is perpetual. No way out. Not alive anyway. As THE black-site guy told me once, “No one gets out of life alive anyway.”
What pushes me is that people are dying in my name. And it continues. And it was all just ramped up hugely just the other day. I don’t know what to do about this.
I would tell the FBI about it and I will if asked, but, like, it’s their program. So…
I got a heart-breaking inquiry about tragic human suffering, asking if I knew anyone who could help. Not that I know anything, but the inquirer might want to do up an inquiry at the email address mentioned on this page:
Probably you’ll meet with a brick wall. There’s more than one way to skin a cat. Since you’re an attorney, you might have success contacting this fellow, though note that although this guy has his offices at Main State, this is not officially part of Main State (it being that it just has everything to do with Main State):
He’s the guy, it seems, who paid my parking ticket without me asking when I paid a visit to Main State the other year. Friendly. I would really go after this guy. Watch his youtube video seminars looking for attorneys and students to sign up to work at this office and you’ll get an inkling as to exactly what he does.
The last time I was asked to help someone concerned trying to set up an emergency extraction from a country whose consulate was running on nothing, with no electricity for, like, five months, with security worse than Benghazi. Main State washed their hands of everything. Lots of CYA going on. No one cares because it’s not right now in the news or under scrutiny in Congress.
Having said that, you have my prayers and blessings for success in your good work for the least of our brothers among us. Thank you.
Oh, and, of course, your State Senators might be able to intervene and put pressure on the Consulate or on the guy at Main State on your behalf. You’ll want to tell them what you did so far. No one wants to be have a stigma of not having cared about the topic you bring up. We want to believe, as well, don’t we, that people would actively want to help.
The dog among the pandas is immediately, unmistakably recognizable. Right?
There are those who live in the day to day world, a surreal world unknown to be such by those who dwell there but known to be that way by those of the other world.
Then there are those who live in what they call the real world though they know that their other world is more surreal than the supposed real world of the day to day world.
We have a lot of day to day people in the parish. I like that. They do what they need to do to get through life and be on their way to heaven, come hell or high water, with all the sickness and death and drama and joys and sorrows that we all know. Good.
Because the parish is so very tiny, anyone from the other world stands out. All such individuals try to hide, but to no avail. If they were just newbies or those passing through from some other day to day world, they wouldn’t stand out. We would just notice some new faces and invite them to the social after Mass as always. No biggie.
But those who are, instead, from the other world stand out because they try to hide. They know they are different. They would like nothing more than just to be another soul in the day to day world, longing for this. They try too hard. Who are they you ask?
The parish is at the end of the world. There are lots of ends of the world in the world. They are all crazy places, like the end of Cape Cod, or Key West, or San Francisco. But here we have an out of the way place which isn’t crazy. Just day to day. And that’s what attracts those from the other world who are trying to hide without all the craziness. If only they didn’t try so very hard they would be alright.
- There are high-value witness protection beneficiaries with escort.
- There are those retiring out from specialized intelligence operations with escort.
- There are those from the Department of Justice and other such agencies and companies just taking the scenic route between northeast VA and D.C. and, say, Atlanta.
You can always but always pick them out. It’s like seeing a liberal Catholic nun out of her religious habit. They never know how to dress. They always look odd.
- The women come in wigs and big sunglasses, always with an escort who is obviously tied to them but is obviously not family, sitting elsewhere but nearby, always within line of sight, always in a pew directly across an isle. The women look totally spooked, totally shattered, totally in a different universe. One woman said to me: “They know that I have the right to practice my religion, to go to Mass.”
- I’ve only once come across a man who had a handler, who, as always, was obviously tied to the guy but was obviously not family, sitting elsewhere but nearby, within line of sight in a pew directly across an isle. The two came in and exited thirty seconds apart. After Mass the one guy started talking with me about what was happening with him, on his way from a stint as an expert of assistance in GTMO. He was totally shattered. Totally devastated. He soooo just wanted to be in the day to day world once again. Then his CIA handler came out and heard what he was saying to me. What ensued was not a good scene, not a good scene at all.
- Then there are the others just on their way to somewhere else, but still trying way too hard not to be noticed. It is almost comical with them. It’s like a uniform: jeans, but pressed, with creases, a button down shirt and a sport coat to hide the “carry,” a five day beard. Just too perfect in their slumming. No one does that. But them.
The first time I noticed anything like this was 25 years ago in a tiny parish church belonging to the Archdiocese of New York, but way up in northernmost reaches of the Archdiocese. Four men I’ve never seen previously came in together, all about forty years old, all sharply dressed with their sport jackets in the summer. There were only like eight others for the daily Mass so they could have sat anywhere together. But no. They chose a pew toward the back, as always, and spread out right across the the church. They were typical FBI, as described above (always the same, like Mormon missionaries!), but, as I was soon to find out, they were pretending to belong to the Moonies cult that had their largest institution in North America just down the road from the rectory (an old Christian Brothers School). They came to Mass a few times always in the same fashion, and then one day introduced themselves to me, inviting me to go to Russia as their special envoy, working with Moscow, but right across Russia, to adjust their policies on the exercise of religion. I told them how much I had tried to bring an end to the Moonies in that little town, but they tried hard not to let that phase them. They said that this was different. They wouldn’t take no for an answer. This went on for months, once every couple of weeks or so. Finally they gave up. But forever after that, I noticed special visitors trying not to be noticed, at least until they might introduce themselves with their otherworldly stories.
Some don’t introduce themselves, of course. They especially look to be trying way, way, way too hard not to be noticed. There was one lady recently for whom my heart broke. She had the usual wig and over-sized but not too dark sunglasses. She had an ever so typical handler. But it was the look on her face. Oh my. It’s like a Nazgûl Ringwraith sucked her soul right out of her. I prayed for her. People go through an unbelievable amount of hell in this world and they are really from this world and so desperately want to be in a day to day world but feel stuck in another world, unrelatable to the day to day world, not knowing which one is surreal, in a maelstrom of confusion. Sometimes it’s just all too much.
You would think that it’s so bad that in that other world we could crucify the Son of the Living God.
But we’ve done that in our own day to day world. Get it?
We disguise ourselves even to ourselves to pretend we are of the day to day world when instead we are from that other world. Yep.
When will we stop running?
An old school, super excellent, honorable guy, a John Edger Hoover redivivus (in the good aspects anyway), disillusioned as he is with the shenanigans that have been going on from mid-level on up for quite some time at the bureau, gave me my marching orders. What a patriot he is. He waxed poetic, reminiscing about the old days. We have a common understanding about doing what is right for the common good, no matter the cost. Do it! So, he mentioned how to go about this, given the extraordinary difficulties and those who don’t want this to happen at any cost. His “how to” surprised me greatly. I had been warned to go ahead and do anything but that, anything else, including going to my friend in the Institute for Intelligence and Special Operations. But, no, I couldn’t do that. I would end up in the middle of some mountain in Colorado if I did that. But this guy insisted that his way, so surprising to me, was the only way.
- I asked, “You mean I should talk to that guy?” I protested: “I don’t know him personally, as a friend.”
- “Pffft!” he said. “No, NOT him. No. Go and see […].” He repeated this twice, really strongly: “NOT him. You are to go and see […].”
My reaction to that, only thought but not said – and I confess this – was “Oh s#!+”. Sorry, but I am a sinner. At any rate, O.K. I’ll see what I can do. This may take some time to arrange.
This is just one of those boring, kryptic, for-the-record posts.
Pictured above is the safe-house of my “Shadow.” He’s the guy who stole my identity, becoming me back in the mid-late 1970s, looking like me and the same age as me, but with maybe just a tiny little bit more grey in the mustache. He wants to gain weight so as to be an identical copy of me. I have trouble losing weight because of a medicine I take. He even wanted me to sign off on all his properties (many) not for me to own them but so that he could disappear. This has been going on for decades.
Pictured below is my “Shadow”. He looks like a tramp for my visit. He’s really good at what he does. He doesn’t live at his safe house. He has a much nicer place. And a super-decked out conversion van, you know, for work. He seems to live far beyond his means. Hint, hint, hint.
A little while back my “Shadow” copied and forwarded all my text messages with him to an unknown destination upon that destination’s request. That was very soon after I put in a case with the FBI that would involve the FBI, CT at McLean and Main State (because of what Main State had said to me, confirming that two days later, both being extensive conversations). Interesting. I am reminded of texting conversations these days what with all the flurry about the not analogous but perhaps not too separate case of Stzrok and his girl friend.
Back in 1992 Main State wrote me a two page single space letter saying that they couldn’t care less about my Shadow, but were instead going to track me, and this in perpetuity. In 1996 the FBI at the U.S. Consulate in Rome tried to force me, a citizen in good standing in these USA, to forego my identity and disappear altogether, letting the guy who took my identity years before go on with his life as me. To their disgruntlement, I didn’t do it. It has been chaos all these years, stretching back into the 1980s. I could write volumes about this. It isn’t about to end soon:
I have to say that my “Shadow” has a human side to him, you know, a little bit of guilt, a weak spot. I like that. It works for me. He seems to have “mistakenly” let me in on the texting he had with the destination of my texting history with him. Heh heh heh. For the record. It’s surely not that they didn’t have that texting history already available to them; it’s that they wanted to see if he would be so loyal to them as to do their bidding, no matter what. Whatever about him, it was written for them.
For the record, let’s say that that request of mine at the top of that texting (the destination will know what that is) is actually serious. That would solve particular endangerment that I’m put in because of this, right? Along with that goes something else that goes along with that and is one of the primary reasons for that, and that would solve a lot as well, right? Be nice.
[Could I possibly be more kryptic than that? Lol. ;-) ]
NSA’s program is a massive FISA warrant. Robert Mueller was in on it. James Comey was in on it. Peter Stzrok was in on it. Snowden reported a part of it.
Comey thinks everyone who thinks Nunes’ FISA Memo is important is a weasel and a liar, not because spying on the POTUS or anyone else is at all wrong, it seems for him, but that doing so as a favor to political opposition is just fine and dandy in a democracy with a Constitution such as we have it. ?!?!?
So, anything goes, and anyone who doesn’t get with the program is held to be countering countersabotage, counterintelligence, counterterrorism, and is therefore as un-American as any saboteur, spy or terrorist. When I was a little kid, it was a saying among all the kids that you shouldn’t point your finger at anyone since the rest of your fingers were pointing back at yourself if you do so.
But, hey! Now we’re moving on to Nunes’ “phase 2” with Main State. Ha ha.
*Russia! Russia! Russia!* That’s what Nunes’ investigation is parroting from the FBI/DOJ as the abuse of the judiciary investigation moves on to phase two over at Main State of DoS. But nothing is at it seems, right? I should remember that myself. Maybe that’s not parroting, but rather surprisingly accurate, but from a different yet complementary angle.
Russia did come to mind when Main State leaked and unmasked information to me (and how many others with what is surely circular subversive activity?) and then, incredibly, reconfirmed that leaking and that unmasking two days later (last 28 and 30 June 2017, Wednesday and Friday respectively). This involves counterterrorism and counterintelligence.
But Peter Strzok had nothing to do with all that. Oh, wait a minute! That’s what he was in charge of before he was “demoted” to personnel, you know, so that he could continue to get like-minded individuals sabotaging America into place. And that’s what that leaking and unmasking was all about it seems to me, at least from Secretary Tillerson’s reactions.
James Comey spoke about weasels and liars to describe those who think that Devin Nunes’ FISA memo is in anyway important. Actually, relatively speaking, he’s right, that is, if they know better. There’s much worse than a FISC judge allowing the FBI to spy on a presidential candidate on behalf of another presidential candidate. That’s bad, but!
What would be much, much worse, would for the FBI to set up an insurance program, so to speak, if one’s FISC mandated spying didn’t pan out, an insurance program that would set up a situation which, when it was made discoverable at an expedient time (and that time might be coming up) so as to have the sitting POTUS that was passionately not desired to be quickly impeached and imprisoned.
Oh! Wait a minute! That FISA memo, in it’s last sentence, mentioned just such an “insurance policy.” I don’t know Strzok or his mistress or the insurance policy to which he refers. What I do know is what was related to me by Main State can do exactly what Strzok wants his “insurance policy” to do. And it was in his competence.
Just something for the record. The FBI tells me repetitively in extended conversations over the past number of months about other topics I’ve been delving into that, instead of those topics, what they are really interested in is counterterrorism. When this is said, everything else slows down and is narrowed down so that focus is sharpened (in the adrenaline pumped agent’s world) and the word counterterrorism is spoken in an exaggerated manner, you know, to get a reaction: “The FBI is especially interested in C.O.U.N.T.E.R.T.E.R.R.O.R.I.S.M. Good interrogation technique. Used again and again and again. Hint. Hint. Hint. Doesn’t work with me though. I’ll tell my experience with Main State to whomsoever from the FBI, but only at CT-McLean, with whatever lackey from Main State present. Otherwise. I just can’t trust the FBI, not now. But maybe I’m just a weasel and a liar. But why would I be?