Category Archives: The Ganymede Arena

Guest writings

Kamil Beylant: “Offenders”…


The_Ganymede_Arena
….

Date: January 16, 2018

01) Offenders by Kamil Beylant

Holly was a little depressed. She was bored. She tapped her fingers on her knee as she sat in among her satin bedsheets, rousing herself out of her early evening power-nap. This wasn’t the right feeling for a late-night party girl like her. She mulled a bit, then realized it was partly because of what Robert Stanter had told her. His club was going under. He’d once had the hottest sex-comedy club in Beverley Hills, but the heyday of Lollygaggers – the club – seemed to be over.

Holly herself had done a couple of gigs there. That was before she’d given up comedy for full-time modeling and agent work. Her humor had been awkward, too offensive. She’d stripped down to bikini shorts, cupped her big bare breasts, stroked her goosefleshed thighs and said “wow, I’ve got fried chicken skin all over, and two BIG wattahmelons up here – SOMEone must be interested!” Tilted her nose up at a big black basketballer in the front row of tables. Outrageous. He’d heckled back, “Woah, you racist, girl, but I’ll still have your ass.” The crowd roared but the boss, Robert, didn’t like it. He was keeping the politics clean in there.

And he wanted her white-meat ass for himself.

He didn’t get it for a long time after that. “No one fires that ass and then touches it,” she’d murmured to herself. But she’d remained friends with the lusty entrepreneur, and eventually she warmed up to him again. Now, she hated to see him and his club go down.

But there was nothing to be done about it. The fact was that today’s hot club, Offenders, was based on the kind of new idea that killed old ideas dead. No one could hope to compete. And anyway, the People, the sainted People of the USA, had created the niche for the new club themselves. They’d made it inevitable when they’d driven all the hyper-talented bad-boys out of the film industry in Holier-than-Thou-Wood, as people were now starting to call Tinseltown. All that genius had been left sunning itself idly around empty swimming pools and swilling down pariah-hood with a twist of lemon. That was how it was, at least, until Marcus Corvin had given the fallen stars his fateful phone call – would they like to come back to work again as a valued member of the Offenders team? Marcus got all the top baddies for next to nothing. Harvey Weinstein worked as his MC four nights a week. Louis C.K. had a regular Saturday night residency. Kevin Spacey seldom performed, but he had a regular table at the front and any boys (21+) that he liked the look of got free drinks on the house as long as they sat there with him. Every night, as part of the show, he chose a favorite by putting his hand on the fellow’s knee. The crowd ate – and drank – it up.

The number of people who were willing to cross the raging picket lines at the front door was truly impressive. Every night there were hours of screaming, as police and security got the punters into the seats. Guests could get light-weight ski masks labeled ‘consenting adult’ from the gate staff of the guarded parking lot, plus a mini-umbrella for warding off spit. They got a free drink if anything hit them on the way in; security guards gave out the coupons. The inside staff came through a side door under heavy guard earlier in the evening. They were a unique crew: every one of them had to be a registered sex offender. And not just any registered sex offender.

Marcus had his preferences. “No killers, no violent fucks, I want nice sex offenders, guys and girls who crossed the line – schoolteachers who dropped their dress for a hawt 15-year-old, the guy who fucked the tall chick who said she was 18 but was really 14, that kind. All of ‘em out of trouble for at least five years. Get me a few edgy ones who were in the papers for Weinstein type stuff, nothing too coercive. Public masturbators – perfect. As for porn downloaders, not very exciting, but they’re the cheapest hire so they can do the busboy stuff and the dishes. And I want a pedophile bartender.”

Part of the shtick of Offenders was that all the ‘sexy baby drinks’ – the non-alcoholic cocktails like the Shirley Temple and the MargarLolita – were prepared by a genuine pedophile. Marcus didn’t care if he or she was an ex-offender or a never-offender, as long as the covering letter of the job application stated “I am a pedophile.” There were no kids anywhere near the club anyway, so no trouble could come of that. The neighborhood was mostly Korean phone stores and real estate offices that closed by 5, or by 9, and there were no parks or schools around for many blocks. The screams of the picketers outside echoed off blank walls, and the sound insulation was great.

Needless to say, that was where Holly was going tonight. Fuck Lollygaggers. Sorry, Robert. At Offenders, you could sometimes actually gag on the lollys, since Marcus had provided an extra level of excitement – the performers, if they were in the mood, could go to extra large dressing rooms called Offender Blender rooms. Guests who paid enough money, and met the visual approval of the performer, could go in to ‘get Offended.’ For a lower rate, patrons could also let it be known that they were interested in certain members of the staff. The signalling was discreet, starting off with a message on a tablet wired to the table, and an agreement was signaled when a drink or a tray of nuts was delivered along with a banned-in-Hollywood mini-grope. Everyone male who was gay or feeling bi that night wore a purple wristband; there also were other colors, as you might expect.

Holly hated conventional sex. She liked her bit of rough. She wanted to be offended tonight.

She started off naked, showered, in the bathroom. Great attention went into her hair, her brows, her purpled eyelids, and her S/M-ready whip-long eyelashes. All along the frame of her bathroom mirror, shiny golden faux-cockleshells gave out mini-reflections of a work of male-stalking art. The fully made-up Holly was a mesmerizing tableau of hormone-imbued, deftly painted flesh that silently screamed “offend me, up-end me, then send me.” That was one of Marcus’s radio advertising slogans. Perfume went on last. Anyone environmentally offended by perfume was banned at Offenders. Holly silently thanked the Zimbabwean civet cats whose anal gland musks, mixed in the perfume, gave jungle swagger to her man-stalking predations. But she didn’t actually take victims in her heavy-breathing moments of pouncing and carnage. Her prey all had to be tough enough to overwhelm her back, at least a little, or they went out later with the trash. She liked her boundaries pushed. She like every boundary pushed.

“If there were any sheep at Offenders, they’d be bloody nervous.” That was an online ad campaign for the nightclub. Marcus wasn’t actually crass enough to say his place was where men were men. You could read it between the lines.

Holly got into the taxi looking like a beautifully coiffed butterfly emerging from a slim-lined, golden cocoon.

The Arabic-accented driver spent the whole ride telling her about her prospective employment prospects in Dubai. She’d heard it all before.

She tipped two goon guards at the entrance to shelter her way in past all the feminists and the ‘extraordinary men,’ who bulged their throat veins at her or tried to shove leaflets into her hands. Some of the guys were pretty cute, and she liked their rage, but ultimately, she was from the jungle and they were from the farm. It wouldn’t be sporting to go after those grain-fed idealists. “Take me to the dark side,” she whispered under her breath. And when she got there, a table was waiting, along with her gay drag queen friend Lavendula and her fellow cis-vaginate lioness Carmacita. She didn’t want to get drunk, but the night was young, so she ordered up the ‘rapist bloody Mary’ (which had a double shot of vodka in it) and settled back to relax. In the midst of amiable and sultry chit-chat with her friends, she murmured in Carmacita’s ear, “honey, this vag-ionizer I’m sitting on is just itching to atomize some man parts tonight!” “Got a ton of condoms in my purse if you need some,” was the equally sultry, but louder answer. All three friends laughed it up pretty well.

The show was awesome. Holly never thought she’d be in the same room as Dustin Hoffman, and now here he was, all shuffles like Jimmy Stewart but with an Offenders glint in his eye that made a few of the women shriek like teenagers. Holly wasn’t attracted to him, but the lesser known comedian Riley Edgefield really got her going. Yes, he was bald, he was chunky – he could have been Danny DeVito’s cousin. But he had given himself the right stage name. Edgy, you’d better believe it. And a certified pussy-groper from his days in the now-lost Hollywood world known to insiders as ‘casting-couch IKEA.’

“My goilfriend knows I like it shaven down theah, you know, like a little kid,” he said into the microphone, putting on an exaggerated Noo Yoahk accent. “So when she gets mad at me, she don’t talk about divorce, all she does is let it grow. I mean, I forgot her boit’day, and after two weeks, I was distressed, I was in tears. Know what I mean, guys? *sharp applause* I tell her, ‘This is hair-assment, PUBIC HAIR-assment!’ So what does she say? She says, ‘the hair on YOUR ass hair-asses me!’ OK, I admit, once in bed she mistook one of my cheeks for her cat, and when she went to scratch Fluffy’s ears, she got a big surprise! (crowd: *ewww! hahaha*) But that’s now our favorite sex act, so I’ve been purring ever since. My life has nevah been better, you know, and I got recognition! When that Julian Ass-hat posted my dick pic on Dickileaks, the top comment said, ‘wow, that’s not a foreskin, that’s 10-skin!’ OK, so I found out my brother wrote that, but it was still nice. People say to me, I thought you were circumcised, and I say, no, what you heard there was “circus-sized.” It’s the only live elephant left in show biz, you know what I mean?”

Holly’s thoughts turned to that very scenario; her imagination saw the trunk extending toward her and two giant testicles beside it flapping out in a threat-pose of imminent charge. She had to have that elephant. She signaled the head waiter over, a lanky redhead who’d once video’d his girlfriend getting lusty at 16, and said she wanted to sign up for an Offender Blender meeting with Edgefield.

“You’ve got stiff competition tonight,” Red told her. “And speaking of stiff, I’m available too, by the way.”

“He’ll take me for sure,” Holly breathed, flouncing her hair. “But thanks, I’ll take a sperm-check on that.” She pressed a $5 tip into his hand just to make the point. In reality, he was just too – nice – just too fricking nice for her. She was into the hard stuff.

At the end of the show, when Kevin Spacey had befriended the knee and a few other bits of a nervous-looking tousle-haired 21-year-old, to wild audience cheers, Holly got the news that her bid for Edgefield had come out on top. No extra money was involved in the choice to prefer her above the other bidders – just desirability, or offendability, or both. After collecting kisses from Carmacita and Lavendula, she strode around to the side of the stage and was let in through the door whose lintel said, in small letters, “Politician, your career ends here.” Holly was not exactly nervous, but she was definitely keyed up, and she stayed on her guard. You never knew what was going to happen with a whip-smart barbarian like Edgefield.

He came in offensively, smoking a cigarette. “I pardon you for not smoking,” he said, with a smirk. He was breaking some local bylaw, but there was no smoke alarm, so no one was going to bust him for it.

“Very funny show, Mr. Edgefield,” Holly said suavely, biting her lip. “I hope your girlfriend liked it.”

“Haha, jealous, are you?” Riley snorted. “She’s a ‘woik of fiction’ as I might say onstage.”

“The elephant has no watering hole?” Holly asked sympathetically. “I think I might hear a rainstorm approaching across the savanna.”

Like lightning, Riley swung around and grabbed her presidentially by the kitkat. He looked into her eyes.

“Interesting,” he said, “that wasn’t the highest level of your game, was it?” He rubbed his index finger around anyway. It snaked back towards alternative fissures.

“You’re very perceptive,” she said, with a shudder. “If I was 21, that would’ve crossed my wires and made a big spark, and it still works, but…”

“Tell me,” he said, “who was the worst boyfriend you ever had?”

“Oh shit,” Holly said, “There’ve been so many worst boyfriends.”

“Gut feeling, fast” said Edgefield, inserting her good panties up into her butthole with the first joint of his ring finger.

“Miguel, definitely Miguel, the little shit,” Holly said, undulating her breasts into the flaps of Edgefield’s unbuttoned suit jacket. “Latin romantic fucker, told me he loved me, bought me flowers, all that romance shit. I hate romance – it’s like religion, and I hate religion too, and the guy was always ‘Jesus this’ and ‘God that,’ and ‘mama,’ too. First high school boyfriend, I didn’t know any better. Then his mama tells him to cool it with me and he’s such a good boy he does. Lovey dovey candy ass.”

A glimmer came to Edgefield’s eyes, and he licked his lips.

“I have a problem,” he said. “Since I started working here, the women are different. They’re already up for offenders and I can’t get my first prize from them – that look of shock that says I’ve reached past the façade and gone right down to the true reactions. The fluster, the panic, the fucking reality that gives a guy a killer cum-shot. A guy like me, anyway. But with you, I’ve got your number now, you lovely, beautiful, gorgeous, perfect baby doll angel.”

He kissed her nose sweetly and tenderly. His right hand was gone from her nethers and rested demurely on her side.

“What the fuck!” Holly expostulated. “Cut the romantic shit! That’s not what I came for!”

“Darling, I kiss you anyway, because I believe you want to be my baby forever – the way God planned it,” Riley breathed hard, starting to waltz her around. He looked deeply into her eyes. They were hazed with indignity.

“Fuck this shit!” Holly said, almost in a panic, “I’m going back to my table!”

“Wait a sec,” Riley hissed. “I got what I wanted, now you get what you want.” He pulled down his pants and Holly realized he had rubber shorts on. As he started to strip them down, she saw the elephant, with its trunk rigidly swaying, already covered by a condom and a whole lot of lube. “Bend over,” Riley said. “Pick up some soap.”

Damn, this was more like it. Holly bent and felt his hands expertly undoing her. Moments later, as she hunched like a prisoner in the shower, she felt the elephant charge hugely up into the interior of her continent, and then a hand came around and Trumped her from the front until she blew up like a jungle volcano, seething, heaving, rasping, grasping, and she felt the call of the elephant echoing through her.

“Fucking inTENSE,” she muttered. “Abuses me with romance first, and then that! What the hell was that?”

“I dunno, I never felt anything like that,” Riley sighed, wiping his de-condomed monstrosity off with a towel from a nearby rack. “We should meet again, Holly. But not until I have a dozen red roses and a nice card with puppies on it.”

“You sick fuck,” Holly retorted vehemently, but her eyes fired up with complicity. Her humiliation at accepting romance seemed to flavor her anger like a spice. She began to suspect she was now addicted to this emotional rapist.

And, as later events showed, she was right. One day, she’d find herself looking at a diamond ring and discussing engagement with him, all the while writhing with disgust. Then, he’d meet her parents and be sickeningly polite and cheerful and not himself at all – but in the bedroom later, he’d savage her like a real man. Then, finally, in the most loathsome moment, she’d marry him at a church altar, saying “I do,” and then silently mouthing, “you piece of shit.” But hey. He could be a romance offender, a lovey-wuvey-dovey abuser, as much as he wanted, however revolting it all was – as long as he kept HIS end of the bargain up HER end of the bargain later on.

When she lay in stirrups having his baby, he’d be singing Paul Anka’s “You’re having my baby, what a lovely way of saying how much you love me,” and leering creepily into her eyes. How she’d despise the song, and how she’d want to kill him; and yet, at that very moment, how her alternate love canal would burn for the nurses to leave the room, and for the baby to fall asleep, so that the elephant could come and ram its trunk up into her, and fill up the baby-sized void that abusive romance had left inside her.

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The_Ganymede_Arena_SB_Archive

ANATOMICALLY CORRECT…


The_Ganymede_Arena
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Date: November 21, 2017

01) ANATOMICALLY CORRECT

by Kamil Beylant

as inspired by Zheng Jiajia

(https://www.theguardian.com/world/2017/apr/04/chinese-man-marries-robot-built-himself)


The last straw was she had taken the hair dryer. True, he didn’t have much hair left, but the noisy yellow plastic antique was a souvenir from college, back when he was a young buck. It had made him an item back in his club days – which were no more. The golden age of Jason Smore – the gold of youth, long ago pawned for parking change and silver gift bracelets. Aargh. Women! She had done him in, this one. Walking out like that. Taking Robin, yes, legitimately her very own kid, from her previous slot in relationship-roulette, but he had got quite fond of the ratty, bratty tigger. He’d almost been on the way to being an OK dad, at least occasionally. Yes, sure, he was usually at work. Being brilliant in this world just put you in with the top billion brilliant people – then you had to slave. Robotics was a crowded field, and he was underfunded to pull off a big whopperoo with all his special tricks and knacks.

She thought he worked hard just to stay away from her.

If only she hadn’t caught him looking at that website with the Czech naturist photos from the 60s. From the look in her eye, he reckoned she knew – knew he was looking at some forms there that were notably younger than her. Some not much older than Robin, if the truth were known. How can you explain? It’s not as if he were any less attracted to her. Looking at eye candy from the eastern Europe of another era wasn’t going to hurt anyone. The youngest ones there would be in the seniors’ home by now, in real life, probably dreaming of being back in those same sunny scenes, jumping off the dock, weaving roots into their hair. They wouldn’t mind sharing the pleasure of the memories.

Damn.

“I may not be the best person to interact with women,” he thought, “My social skills are flat and my sexuality’s a fucking can of worms – yeah, that’s it – no more humans.” That very night, he sat back in his faux leather chair and began to dream, cogitate, extrapolate and plan. Inspiration struck like a series of gas burners lighting up around the rim of his brain.

“I’m going to call her Natasha,” he thought. “She’ll be awkward, but I can pass her off as an internet friend.”

In six months, after many evenings of labor in the workshop downtown, the gorgeous robot was a reality. She was anatomically correct, and able to pass the Turing test as long as the questioner was no more than two years old. He’d given her a Russian accent to explain her simple English. To hear her say ‘honey, come here’ in that cute phrasing hooked him like a fish.

To his surprise, he found her anatomical correctness absolutely thrilling. She worked for him. He could even wear a condom and save on cleaning. He couldn’t have compassion for her, but his heart was full of benevolence toward all the flesh-and-blood women she was rescuing from getting involved with his sweaty grip and his tedious quotidian. He loved the world through her.

His friend Sergei from work came over for drinks every Friday night, and the Stoli bottle was always plump and full at the beginning. Not so much at the end. “Genius is our usual vodka,” Sergei opined, “but this one is not bad for some down-time in stupid land.” He drank the glasses in one throw, Russian style, uttering a cry about health, which echoed dimly off his liver. After both men had cast down the first three of these shots, Jason took a deep breath and introduced Sergei to Natasha, in her best evening wear. Sergei’s eyes widened, and then he roared with laughter and slapped his knee until he said, “ach, I bruise myself.”

“Perfect, Zhason, perfect!” he marvelled. “You know what? You should do like that guy in China – marry her. Make her legal, not robot whore. Show respect. Maybe her last name can be Simonova til then. I know a guy – old friend – working in the Consulate in Marseille, south France. He helps people who have trouble with paperwork – you know? I can get her Russian birth certificate, other stuff. Then we can have a wedding!”

“Wait,” Jason said. “That’s completely crazy. I can program the wedding ceremony into her, but if she was on the books as a Russian wife, how would she get her immigration to stay in the UK?”

“Compassionate basis,” Sergei suggested with a shrug. “Make her a cute little daughter.”

This solution didn’t sound like it would work at all, but the idea stabbed into Jason’s mind like a bee-sting and started to swell. A vision sprang up, something with appropriately east-European overtones. Starting all over, this time in miniature – so much work. Now he’d have to make another robot. But the thrill of, um, composition – that would pull him through the chore. The anatomically correct chore.

Another six months. Nothing could get you around all that wiring and the exact cutting of skin fabric, even with all the tools of the life-like robotics trade in the room around you. Finally, she was ready. Now it was only a matter of buying her some clothes.

“Hello, Luba,” he said, gazing in wonder at his adorably fragile-looking, but actually quite resilient creation.

She smiled and replied, “Zhason, come here” in a sweetly high-pitched Russian lilt.

He obeyed her request to the letter – without a condom. He was beside himself. Natasha, meanwhile, looked on benevolently, without stirring, perhaps because she was in low power mode.

“Bedtime,” he said.

“Bedtime, mama,” said Luba, with her program taking its cue from his words. Natasha roused and came over, picked her up, and they settled in comfortably on the sofa. “Suddenly, I’m exhausted,” Jason sighed. “Natasha, remind me to clean everything up, tomorrow at 6:45 a.m.” “Yes, darlink,” she replied with her standard phrase, “now scheduled cleanink reminder for 6:45 a.m.” Her accented voice was much more appealing than Siri’s.

You can fool some of the people some of the time – they say – but one thing is certain: techno-Russians are not among those some-of-the-people. When Jason first showed off the finished, nicely dressed Luba to Sergei, after six shots of clear liquid health, the stubbled Slav stopped, looked him straight in both eyes, and raised his brows like incoming MiGs.

“You like that?” he asked in a high voice, and paused before going on, shaking his head. “Wah, Jason, focking man. But okay, I guess it keeps you out from trouble, heh? But you know what – I don’t want anyone to think you’re doing it with little girl robot – probably you’d get arrested. I’ll have my friend make birth certificate for her, too, and passport – if anyone sees her, like, from a distance, whatever, you can say she’s visiting. Let me take passport photos.” He got out his phone.

“She’ll make a great flower girl,” Jason mused. After everything Sergei had done for him, Jason wanted to flatter his friend’s wacko marriage scheme. He didn’t really need to marry a robot, he reflected, but once he’d taken someone else into his confidence, he was stuck on the bobsled ride of wherever their expectations were heading.

The difficult thing wasn’t going to be the wedding, anyway. It was going to be the immigration hearing that would necessarily follow. He’d have to be a lunatic to attempt any of that. But sometimes, as all creative people know, the greatest spur of brilliance is a really stupid starting point. A dumbass situation that no one should ever be in, that’s what you needed to make your greatness leap forth. Jason came up with the idea that made him wealthy for life as he contemplated the idiocy of following Sergei’s plan. All he needed was to partner ventriloquism with an electronic interface and a transmitter, and Natasha could say anything he needed her to.

The device, finished three months later, looked identical to a teen’s dental braces. The wires around the front met in sensor junctions at the back of the teeth, and the palatal plate was dotted with more sensors. A separate sensor sat inside the button of his white dress shirt, tight at the neck and well hidden by his tie. The off-on switch was in a pen that could be fiddled with unobtrusively. When the system was on, all Jason needed to do was to shape what he wanted Natasha to say inside his closed mouth, and the words would emerge from her speaking apparatus. The hardest part was filtering everything to sound equally Russian, without his having to do a proficient accent imitation.

Natasha did very well at her wedding, elegant in a blue dress and blue tinted glasses at City Hall. Luba was there in white, holding flowers, also with tinted specs on. Sergei attended in a suit to ‘give Natasha away’ on behalf of her old paperwork-homeland. Jason felt a little weird mouthing ‘Darlink I will always love you so much’ inside his clenched teeth so that he could give himself this pledge using Natasha’s dulcet voice. The presiding civic official, however, seemed satisfied, even though he squinted at Luba several times, puzzled by something unusual in her movements. Jason hadn’t yet made his transmitter switchable to her, so she could only say what was in her program. The official didn’t address her, and she had no cue to say anything, and could only follow along beside her ‘mother,’ carrying the flowers.

“Not impressive,” Jason thought, but they had made it through to the end of the ceremony, and that was that. He and Natasha were man and spouse. He shook Sergei’s hand and kissed his bride once again. At last, he could pick the little girl robot up, a natural gesture she was not quite too old for, and he carried her out triumphantly. She smiled at the contact, and all was well. “You smell nice,” she said in his ear, as she so often did when she was closely handled. Only Sergei heard, and he made a wry face.

Many weeks later, Natasha needed to attend the immigration hearing that followed from the wedding, but Luba was exempted. Thanks to the ventriloquism transmitter, the beautiful Russian was able to make a highly articulate case for the extent to which she loved her husband. She was dedicated to staying in Britain to be with him forever. And her daughter already loved the man. Jason couldn’t bring himself to say “as a father.” That struck him as creepy.

One member of the interview panel noticed that Jason seemed to be doing something inside his mouth. “Are you all right, young man?” she asked, nodding up toward his teeth.

“Periodontal disease,” Jason replied. “Very sore gums. Just had the dental hygienist at them this morning.”

Natasha was accepted as an immigrant, and was on her way to citizenship, along with her daughter. The two of them now had plenty of documents in English.

The ventriloquism interface was patented, with half the rights in Jason’s name and half for the firm. It was a huge hit: you could use it to make anything seem to talk. Parties were never the same. Jason’s investment portfolio started heading in the direction of buying a football team in 20 years.

Sergei, over for drinks one night, groused that not only was Jason ‘stinking rich,’ but also, he had a more beautiful Russian woman than his Russian friend would ever find. “I would ask if she was swinger, but I know in my heart she’s faithful to you,” he grumbled. Jason was glad the man hadn’t asked to dally with his robot.

“Sergei, I promise, after I finish the Moresby robot crane project,” Jason said, “I’ll make you one like her – for now, just find a photo of the perfect face and body.” Sergei grunted – he didn’t want to admit sinking so low as to resort to 3D porn – but Jason knew he was seriously interested.

“I love real Russian women, you know, but some of them want you to buy them sable coat, which is a super expensive coat made from a weasel. If you don’t get it for them, they turn into the weasel. Then there is punk rock kind of Russian girl, very wild, hot in the sack, but you live with them, you can’t stand up to pee even once or they make you clean the toilet.”

Jason only cleaned his toilet twice a year unless it needed it. “I have no competition for the washroom,” he said smugly.

Not long after that, though, the smugness was wiped from his face.

He’d gone so far as to take Natasha and Luba out for a walk in the park – what was he thinking? Perhaps someone might have found out he was married, he thought, and they might wonder why they’d never seen his wife. Maybe she should be seen, occasionally, in the distance. Taking Luba out was a distinctly more foolish risk, though, because she was school-aged, but needless to say, didn’t attend. No one in bureaucracy so far had detected that his immigrated step-daughter was on the lam from education.

Then it happened. A woman with straggly grey hair, mid-50s, strode over and looked hard into Luba’s eyes.

“Just as I thought,” the woman announced, glaring at Jason. “You have a child robot. And I bet she’s anatomically correct, you fucking disgusting creep.”

“No, no,” Jason offered, “I work with a reputable company. She’s totally featureless down there. But please don’t make a scene by trying to look.”

“I’m calling the police,” the woman snarled. “Let them investigate. Piece of shit!” She strode off to a safe distance, then pulled out a mobile phone.

Jason hadn’t programmed the robots to run, and before they could all walk home, the police materialized.

“What ‘ave we ‘ere,” a red-haired, freckled policewoman said in greatest suspicion.

“Just an informal walkabout, um, product testing,” Jason said, giving his card out like a good engineer.

“To objectify a woman this way is horrible but not illegal,” the second policewoman said, as she studied Natasha, including a brief peek into her undies, “but the child needs to be taken in to the station for her own – for society’s protection. I advise you to come along and make an explanation. You have a right to have a lawyer present, naturally.”

“Thank you,” Jason said with dismay. At the police station, he used a wall phone to call his firm, who sent in their most trusted solicitor. Jason had the resources to hire all the legal help he could dream of.

He needed it. He was charged under a new obscenity law outlawing the possession of a three dimensional, anatomically detailed child facsimile. His computers were seized and, to his chagrin, the fossil remnants of his perusal of Czech naturist antiquities were turned up. He faced up to 20 years in prison. As far as he could tell, the entire British public woke up every morning to scream his name in rage and chant for his death. The furore that broke out when a laboratory identified his semen in a pint-sized robot cavity was just this side of Hiroshima.

Sergei, reached via the prison phone, gave him a hard time. “Haven’t you ever heard of safe sex?” he demanded. The question was deadpan, as if it were totally sensible. “That makes no sense,” Jason responded, “but then again, neither does anything else. I always appreciate your advice, Sergei.”

Nights were hardest part of prison life. He could barely sleep. “I have to give the English people credit for sticking up for the safety of robots,” he muttered, as he lay in a cot beside a snoring murderer. The snore itself was nearly lethal.

At first, he worried the other inmates would kill him outright. “You’re a fucking nonce and you’ll bleed,” said one man with a tattooed skull. “I’m no nonce,” Jason said, “never been near a child. They done me for doing something with a robot.” “Ha, Robopaedophile,” said the man-wolf, but then his eyes crinkled and he started to chuckle. “That’s a bloody good one, mate.”

His situation struck his jailmates as so hilarious that they conspired to keep him alive. “I wanna see ‘ow this comes down in trial,” said Tattoohead, “Trial of the Robobeast of Britain.” They took bets.

Jason’s brazen walk in the park ensured that he couldn’t be granted bail, so he stayed behind bars and waited. Eventually, he placed some bets on his own conviction.

One day, he heard a long lecture from a judge about how he was on the slippery slope to being a child rapist and murderer, and then came back to prison to pick up the four packs of cigarettes that he’d won, one for each five years of the sentence. He traded them for toiletries and chocolate bars.

Meanwhile, his lawyers and the firm’s continued to plug away. The first break they got was to get Natasha and Luba released from captivity in the evidence room. They were no longer needed as evidence, and the firm argued Jason had embedded unique intellectual property into the robots’ design that belonged to the company and needed to be retrieved. They were quite correct about that – there was nothing else around the firm like Jason’s girls. When the robots were habeas’ed, the staff of the evidence room made an awkward attempt to pack them into large cardboard boxes for transport. The manipulations of Natasha’s body accidentally turned on a backup battery pack, and Natasha came to life inside the box and struggled her way out. Eventually, Sergei was sent to bring the two robots back in a cab.

One of the lawyers then suggested that freedom of robot expression could be aided if Jason applied for a conjugal visit by his lawful spouse. “Preposterous,” railed the opposing lawyers, “the marriage is null and void; the spouse isn’t human, she’s a machine.” This was when Sergei’s friends got involved. The Russian embassy in London produced the documents proving Natasha and Luba had been born in Russia, and stated that since they hadn’t had access to these two citizens, who had not yet become British, they would treat them as human until they were certain non-human status could be proven. They demanded that the British government accord them their human rights as Russian immigrants who had been officially accepted as such by the British government, prior to its poorly evidenced, subsequent denial.

The firm was not about to let anyone examine the robots, possibly obtaining information that could be used by competitors, and the duo remained of uncertain status.

No one could see the harm, in any case, of arranging a conjugal visit with a consenting adult robot spouse, and the application went forward. Then some wag at the embassy, enjoying the situation, passed on a demand from Natasha that her daughter be allowed to accompany her in her visit to the prison. The demand was denied, without prejudice to Luba’s exact legal status, because she was deemed underaged, according to her birth certificate – Jason wasn’t allowed to see minors. Natasha went alone, escorted by a driver from the firm, and when Jason walked down the prison corridor towards his conjugal visit, every prisoner in the wing applauded and thumped and cheered. By this time, he had his lawyers working on every case on the wing that he felt there was hope for. The money was there. He was everyone’s hero. They affectionately called him “Prince Nonce-a-lot.” Every time one of ‘his’ prisoners won a case he was supporting, he had the person’s initials tattooed on his back. It was rapidly filling up.

The years went by; Natasha came for every visit the system allowed. One day, Jason phoned out to Sergei, and was greeted by a most enthusiastic hail.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Don’t you know what day it is?” Sergei asked. “Sixteenth birthday of Luba, according to birth certificate. OK, when Kolya made the document, it was set in the past, years before she was assembled, to match appearance. Appearance hasn’t changed, but she is now, whatever you say, major.”

The humorist at the embassy again stepped up and demanded that Natasha be allowed to take her daughter to see her lawful spouse.

“It’s just a bloody machine, let it go,” said someone in an office, underpaid for the constant paperwork about the rights of a robot.

So, finally, there he was, Jason, older, slightly greying, wiser, thinner, with his lawfully wedded wife, and a tiny sixteen-year-old girl bot who looked not a day older than she had nine years previously. He was in a little room with a bed, a side-table and three chairs, and he couldn’t have been more pleased. The curtains were drawn and his right to privacy meant that no one could look in.

“Honey,” he said to Natasha, “give me a few minutes.”

“Yes, darlink,” she responded automatically. She paused.

“Wonderful to see you again!” he said to Luba, picking her up. “You smell nice,” she whispered in his ear. He was overcome with sensation. Gently, he removed her garments. “What a form I made,” he whispered. He hugged her mildly artificial nakedness.

“I love you,” she said. He blinked at least four times.

“I didn’t give you that phrase,” he said, “where’d you get that from? I mean, I love you too, but I never thought we’d say it.”

“Compliments of Sergei Ivanovich,” she said in a much different tone of voice. “He wants me to tell you he made his own Natasha based on yours, but she’s called Nadya. She lives in his apartment. The company has now sold 1,480 of his Nadya-1 series, and also 774 Nikolai-1 based on recent co-worker Janice Przybl’s alterations to the body. He programs me to give you a special kiss for this wonderful success.”

She kissed him with great tenderness on the side of his jawbone.

He was overcome with affection and other intense feelings. Quickly, he pulled out one of the freely provided condoms from a jar on the table. “Sergei was right,” he murmured, “they’ll probably test you when you get out, to see if you were made obscene again. This is a bloody dangerous world for sex, and safe sex is very necessary.” He fumbled with the packaging, opened it, and sheathed himself methodically, growing ever tenser as the vibrations crackled through him.

He clasped the little robot tightly and planted his lips along her cheek. “Apart from your wonderful figure,” he said softly, “I can’t tell you how good it feels for this engineer to be plugged back in to miniaturization electronics again.”

“Nerd talk is beautiful,” she whispered supportively. There were 375 tech terms that would elicit that response from her if she was being embraced. No real partner would have such a response, but it worked.

When he attained his outcry of the spirit with her, he felt nothing but love for the whole world and everything in it.

….
The_Ganymede_Arena_SB_Archive

Since the age of six, I’ve preferred older men…


The_Ganymede_Arena
….

Date: September 08, 2017

Thank you to Mikey, for submitting this.


Since the age of six, I’ve preferred older men

and always had sexual urges for them. Guess I

knew way back then what would work best for me.

Would look up to them and picture big bodies and hair

on their chests – with that smell I loved best – that sent

me adrift as if I surfed along skies on some awesome

and wild magic carpet you ride.

Spent much of my time making up dreams

like how I’d cuddle with this guy as he showed

me love in his own special way. He’d know I didn’t

need a daddy, as I’d always be happy to put my

two small hands on his huge, manly body.

I stared a lot harder than most at these guys and

hoped one would open his eyes and finally see mine.

When I had turned six I started to trick with my best

friend next door. He was my age too, said that he knew

about secrets that were hiding inside his mother’s room.

He showed me her stunning Playgirl collection,

which enlarged my small world with a pint-sized

erection that just made me wonder what else it

could do. We quickly proceeded to strip bare ass

naked so we could get down and practice positions

each couple was taking in those glossy pages.

Some boys liked to play when they stayed overnight.

When I was eight one friend my age knew more than

most as he played with my butt and then got the urge

to stick in his dick. Never happened before, though

something just clicked and it made me want more.

Remember that year when I went to a restroom to pee and

this grown man walked right up beside me. I was so shy

back then as I hugged the john tight – but when he unzipped

I was totally gripped and it became love at first sight.

I simply could not turn away from his cock when it dropped

from his fly like some super-sized wood. Just stared at that

dick, which was so long and thick and he also stood back from

the john a good six inches, as if asking: “how do you like that?”.

I adored his cool pubic hair as it wrapped his huge pack

and that big cock head that said, “come here and kiss me.”

But when he was gone I felt sad and have since longed for

some guy to eventually like me.

Needless to say, I made some boy friends who liked to come

up to play now and then, but I knew only grown men made me

feel really happy. I went to great lengths ‘attempting’ to find

some type of sex with a much older guy.

Around that time, my step-father mentioned gay guys

were living not too far from our place. But he warned me

to keep my ass far from those men or I would surely be

molested by them. But instead of filling me full of his fear,

what he said had instilled all new thrills that soon pierced me

with urges that surged my strong-willed, yet still quite small body.

Would think of those gay men dad warned me about and I’d

picture thoughts of me there at their house as we all got naked

to play with our cocks. Got so worked up once, I just grabbed

my bike and strolled down the road to see what they were like,

then rode in circles in hopes they would somehow take notice.

Boredom eventually drew me away and I later made up fantasies

about how cool it was to be with these guys, despite those cruel

things folks say about how all deviants rage like savages and

constantly rape small children.

By the age of thirteen, it was finally my first ‘real’ time

being with a man sexually – he was at least in his thirties.

Now realize those things that happened back then

would fuel a desire I’d pursue to the end.

However, I’ve wondered how

things might have been if they were made a bit simpler then.

If folks stopped controlling the minds of these kids

then maybe they’d grow up and actually live.

I wasted too much time drowning in oceans

stocked with their notions so cold, dark and

shallow,

which sucked out the life from a boy nearly dead,

who needed to learn how to think with his head

and find ways to swim and kick with both feet –

so maybe again he can finally breathe, or rise up

and fight for the right to think how he wants with

freedom to do what he likes.

Mikey

….
The_Ganymede_Arena_SB_Archive

Skeptic’s Guide to ‘Pizzagate,’ ‘Pedogate’ and Russia Denial…


The_Ganymede_Arena
….

Date: July 16, 2017

01) On Pastebin

Notice of Raw Links:


By Bernie Najarian

with assistance from Kamil Beylant, Artémie Khazdjian and friends who remain nameless.

I have to admit I’m something of a Russophile. Growing up in an Armenian-American household in the late-mid 20th century, I had the impression that the absorption of Armenia into the Soviet Union wasn’t the worst forced association in history. The Red Bear kept the genocidal hordes from the south out, if nothing else – though most of those hordes seemed to be civilizing up nicely in any case. I thought it would be a good idea to learn some Russian in case I ever had a chance to head over that way. True, I never succeeded in becoming a credible speaker, but I can find my way around. Some classics of Russian literature came my way – in English – and I rather got into the atmosphere of the slavophile world. When the Berlin Wall fell and Russia released the S.S.R.’s, including Armenia, to become independent nations, I looked forward to years of peaceful coexistence and reasonably priced vodka.

When Vlad Putin replaced the vaporous Boris Yeltsin, I decided not to be too worried about his KGB background. When he sent his forces in 2008 to reinforce Abkhazia’s abstraction from Georgia, I thought, “well, the Abkhaz are a distinct nationality.” The simultaneous plucking-out of South Ossetia from Georgia? Dubious – if you gave every ethnic group in the Caucasus its own country, the United Nations would need to double the number of chairs in its main hall. But no major outrage. The Russo-Georgian war fades into history.

Moving along then. Threats to the Baltic countries and Ukraine about supposed insecurity of Russian populations there? Come on, leave those countries be, Vlad, you don’t need to redo the old empire. What are you nervous about? Aren’t we all buddies now? It’s not as if we have different economic systems any more, give or take a few oligarchs with a lot of gold watches.

Then more Ukraine – pulling strings for your eastern pet Yanukovich, but he did seem to get elected fairly enough the second time around. Then became grandiose, but not sinister. Pro-Europe people-power demonstrations driving him out before his term is up? Not legally kosher, but on the other hand, Vlad, was this sufficient provocation to send in your military to ‘rescue’ euro-threatened Russians in Donetsk? Did we really need Russo-Ukrainian football hooligans firing your missiles into white-haired babushkas’ apartments? The clip-off of Crimea – tawdry, even though the inhabitants were mostly Russians – the indigenous Tatar minority didn’t want you. But you had to save that Sevastopol naval base, didn’t you? It’s all about the naval bases – and also in Syria, where the urge to have a toe in Mediterranean waters made you buddy up with one of the world’s most grisly dictators. No qualms about defending a nerve-gassing war criminal; no international moralist is going to erode our military status. Shukran (thank you), Assad, old buddy.

The 2006 ban on Georgian and Moldovan wine imports – now you’re just being a jerk, even if a couple of brands were fake wine. The attempt to ban public coming-out and LGBT association? You posing macho prick. ‘Of course you know,’ says the little grey rabbit, ‘this means war.’ But a war of cleverness, not fisticuffs. LGBT discrimination banned at the Olympics and you’re busted for doping. How’d you like them bananas?

I’m not really here to talk about Putin, though. I’m here to talk about American politics, especially as it’s seen on the internet. I raise the seemingly obscure topic of the Russo-Georgian war of 2008 because it was the first war in history where full-fledged cyberwar – the hacker and DDOS (direct denial of services) components, plus the disinformation component – was used as part of the military effort. This Russian innovation caught the Georgians completely by surprise, and it would still surprise many people today who don’t study such things. I contend that we’re in the midst of such a cyberwar right now. The reason this isn’t completely obvious is that the usual military component is being severely restrained. The cyberwar probably began when US president Barack Obama, in 2013, started giving the CIA about one billion dollars per year to arm groups striving to unsaddle the Syrian government – the host of Vladimir Putin’s naval base. Earlier, as a Wikipedia article notes, “In July 2011, U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton said Assad had ‘lost legitimacy’ as President. On 18 August 2011, Barack Obama issued a written statement that urged Assad to ‘step aside.’” Since open warfare between the US and Russia would probably plunge us to a millisecond from doomsday, most of the Putin pushback has been limited to information war.

The battlefront in this war that first came to my attention was labelled #Pizzagate. I’ll describe this bizarre item, for the benefit of the unfamiliar, in a few paragraphs.

First, though, how do you make friends and influence people? You become one of them, an insider, right? I first began to twig to possible Russian cosplay (role-playing, including visual images as ‘costuming’ effects) on the internet when my frequent collaborator Kamil Beylant (@securityconcern) described a curious interaction he’d had on Twitter. He’d found a supposed Texan, gun-loving supporter of Donald Trump who consistently tweeted material opining that Bashar al-Assad was being unfairly vilified. As Kamil tells me, “I decided to call bullshit, and tweeted to the person that he should get real, since Bashar al-Assad, even though he is fighting ISIL, has absolutely no personal fan club in the United States. Soon afterward, the account was discontinued. Its owner couldn’t be verified as a real person in the US.” There is some wiggle room for doubt here, in that Texas is big and wide enough to harbor an eccentric Assad-lover somewhere among its gun-totin’ rightey-whiteys. But there’s no particular reason to think that this tweeter was really a Texan, or an American. All we know was that the person could write in English and keep up with American cultural memes. And that they were comfy with a Middle Eastern dictator who killed dissidents, gassed rebels, and liked Russian naval vessels as beach equipment.

If Assad is on the list of people to pump up, who’s on the list of people to smack down? Hillary Clinton is clearly one of them. The election she ran in is long over, and she’s mostly been walking her dog since then, as far as we know from news coverage. Yet dozens and probably hundreds of tweeters and redditors relentlessly rag on her as if we were in a hotly contested election week in a Swiftian Yahoo land. Barack Obama, who is now condemned to being an after-dinner speaker for life, is also constantly AK’d with gnashings and trollisms. There are daily calls for his arrest, even his death – not to mention fantasies that he’s gay and his wife Michelle is trans (pre-op, as quasi-indicated by dubious online photos showing midriff folds in her dress). Perhaps the instability of Donald Trump is helping to keep these two in the limelight, and the bashers are trying to fend off impeachment via election nostalgia. The giveaway to what’s more likely happening, however, is their neighbor in the demonization pillory, a billionaire investor called George Soros.

Soros has decided to recycle some of his investment success into the plugging of liberal democracy movements, most notably in and around Hungary, his original homeland. His financially-supported ideas about how to promote democracy in the former Soviet lands have taken root in Serbia, Ukraine, and especially in Georgia, where Soros was considered a major player in setting up NGOs active in the ‘Rose Revolution’ that overthrew Soviet-style president Eduard Shevardnadze. Similar democratization movements in the Arab world gave rise to the Arab Spring that overthrew the Tunisian and Egyptian governments and initiated the Syrian Civil War. Nearly everything Soros and his aspirations are involved in puts him into conflict with one major world leader in particular – Vladimir Putin. The last thing Vlad wants is popular revolutions curbing presidential powers in his own land or those around it. The upsetting of dictatorial stability in Syria is also highly threatening. Russia banned Soros’ non-profits, Open Society Foundations and Open Society Institute, in Nov. 2015. Also in 2015, books by Soros and related literature were seized and burned at a college in Vorkuta, in northern Russia, and newspapers publicized a presidential envoy’s letter stating that Soros’ charities were involved in “forming a perverted perception of history and popularizing ideological directives alien to Russian ideology.”

Soros, in Oct. 2016, returned the compliment by criticizing Vlad Putin’s bombing of Aleppo to shore up the Assad regime as a war crime (www.snopes.com/putin-issues-arrest-warrant-for-george-soros/).

Soros’ concept of open democracy is strongly supportive of refugees, and this has put the financier into the bad books of some European and American ethnocultural nationalists who are appalled by recent refugee floods. Generally, though, he is hardly a household name, and his endeavors have scarcely influenced refugee movements, except insofar as his support of democracy in Syria eventually contributed to the displacement of Syrians caught in civil war. The far-right horror at the advance of their bugbear ‘rape-fugees,’ then, can hardly explain the intense wall of vilification that has been built around the name Soros on social media. He is almost always mentioned in the context of American politics.

The brand of politics that mentions Soros online often corresponds to what Kamil Beylant calls ‘pedo-McCarthyism.’ This type of opinion resembles the ‘reds under the bed’ ideas of the McCarthy era in U.S. politics, where Sen. Joseph McCarthy led an innuendo war against anyone who had ever had any contact or apparent affinity – or even unbiased discussion – with people, groups or ideas considered to be Communist. Just as McCarthy could imply ‘reds’ into almost any situation, pedo-McCarthyism can always find ‘peds’ – pedophiles. Guilt-by-association – even the most abstract, imaginary association – is the name of the game. For example, what happens when Republican former Speaker of the House of Representatives Dennis Hastert, belatedly convicted in 2015 of engaging in sexual relations with underage boys when he was a teacher in the late 1960s, is found by a ‘Pizzagate’ blogger posing in an old video with scandal-plagued Republican House Majority leader (2003 – 2005) Tom DeLay, and current Speaker Paul Ryan?

[quote]

“What is this video trying to tell us? Features Dennis Hastert, Tom DeLay, John Boehner & Paul Ryan.

Is the poster saying peds all become Speakers? Could this account for PR’s attempted undermining of DT? (Paul Ryan, Donald Trump – BN).

PR’s wife was George Soros’s star protege. We know George is into all the slime that can be created.”

[end quote]

(https://steemit.com/pizzagate/@gizmosia/what-is-this-video-trying-to-tell-us-features-dennis-hastert-tom-delay-john-boehner-and-paul-ryan)

Soros, who has never been tainted with any sex scandal more inflammatory than divorce and remarriage, is tagged in there as part of a pedophile conspiracy because Paul Ryan’s wife knew him, and Paul was a work colleague of the then-undisclosed historic abuser Hastert, who hadn’t committed a sexual offense since his marriage in 1973. Anything goes when you’re smearing Soros with ‘all the slime.’ But does any genuine American really have incentive to involve him this way? It’s possible – but not bloody likely.

Twitter, somewhat ambivalently (i.e., with many account suspensions), hosts a spate of ‘pizzagate’ and ‘pedogate’ accounts who have a lot to say about Soros. In a sample of their tweets from late June, 2017, I found several prominent accounts obsessed with mixing slags against Soros with fanciful scenarios of pedophile scandal (about which I’ll say more soon). The ‘David Seaman’ (@d_seaman) account is a major player: Seaman says “Such a bad time to be a Soros twinkie or any other bottomfeeding enemy of human freedom. The problem is they don’t see what’s next.” The meaning of “what’s next” is clarified by fellow-pizzagater “Kevin W” (@kwilli1046) in a statement retweeted by Seaman: “George Soros belongs in jail. He causes civil unrest and violence in multiple countries. His time is up.” A video clip from the Russian news service RT is attached, with the title ‘World’s Biggest Meddler.’ This is followed up by ‘Sarah Abdallah’ (@sahouraxo) who says (Jun 20), “The institute of destabilizer-in-chief John McCain is bankrolled by billionaire regime-changer George Soros and tyrannical Saudi Arabia.” Abdallah also shows up in late June defending Bashar al-Assad with “Assad and his family visit a wounded soldier in Hama (photo shown). This is the man Nikki Haley wants you to believe is ‘killing his own people.’” Responding tweeters satirize this cretinous bit of spin by posting photos of Hitler visiting soldiers.

There seems to be a pattern here, like in one of those optical puzzles where a bunch of squiggly lines, squinted at properly, resolve to form a shape, like a face or a dog (https://www.theguardian.com/childrens-books-site/gallery/2015/sep/25/the-worlds-most-brain-twisting-puzzles-in-pictures#img-5). In this case, there seems to be a face, and that face is a very familiar one from world news.

That face must have had a big smile on it in March 2016, when the personal Gmail account of John Podesta was phished by the Russian intelligence unit Fancy Bear (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Podesta_emails). Podesta, former White House Chief of Staff for Bill Clinton and later chair of Hillary Clinton’s presidential campaign, was a key player in high-level organizing and fundraising efforts supporting the Assad-despising Democratic Party. Fancy Bear put a veneer of popular-resistance legitimacy over this raid by depositing the emails with the Wikileaks organization, where the text was made searchable and placed alongside officially released emails from Hillary Clinton’s controversial private server. Frustratingly, however, the emails were all but bereft of scandalous or even interesting material. This must have been very disappointing to intelligence groups who were undoubtedly put to work looking for any minute item of intel value. One imagines incentives or rewards were offered for good finds, however cryptic, in the vast volume of banality and tedium.

Picking among the twigs and seeds, reddit.com user DumbScribblyUnctious and others got into the social media of people prominently mentioned in the emails, including James Alefantis, the owner of a restaurant where Democratic fundraisers had been held. Comet Ping Pong, the place was called, since it contained both a hipster pizzeria and useable ping pong tables. Scribbly decided it was a place to be suspicious about. He/she elaborated its sins as follows:

[quote]

Comet Pizza is a pizza place owned by James Alefantis, who is the former gay boyfriend of David Brock, the CEO of Correct the Record (a super-PAC funding body supporting the Hillary Clinton election campaign). It has been the venue for dozens of events for the Hillary campaign staff. John Podesta has had campaign fundraisers there for both Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton. John’s brother and business partner Tony Podesta has his birthday party there every year.

It’s also a dive that according to reviews and photos has hidden bathroom doors and creepy murals. The bathrooms in particular have murals exclusively of nude women, as well as a great deal of graffiti relating to sex. Reviews of the restaurant are bizarrely polarized. Websites describing it positively note that there are regularly “unsupervised children running around”. Their menu includes a pedophilic symbol, as do the signs and decorations of other neighboring businesses.

[end quote]

The “pedophilic symbol” on the menu was a logo showing crossed ping pong paddles. It was vaguely similar in shape to a ‘child lover’ symbol used by a few websites in the lawful minor-attracted community (inclusive of non-abusing pedophiles, hebephiles, ephebephiles and bigenerationals). The symbol clearly showed a butterfly composed of large heart-shaped forewings and small heart-shaped hindwings – far more complex than two crossed paddles. The amount of spin imagination needed to see the ‘child lover’ symbol in the paddles was also enough to turn many nearby logos and signs into ‘pedophilic symbols.’ Pizzerias, especially, were inclined to use wedge-shaped logos that could be taken as similar to a spiral upright blue triangle used as a ‘boy lover’ symbol among the minor-attracted. (This one, unlike the butterfly, was a rather frequently and openly used symbol on the internet). The spin imaginations of Scribbly and those like him/her put the boylover symbol into a position similar to that of the Parisian bookstore that trademarked the expression ‘libération des femmes’ (women’s liberation) just as it began to become popular. Spiral triangle symbols are everywhere in the modern graphic arts world, not least where pizza slices are being fancied up. Suddenly all sorts of things could be portrayed as cryptically pedophilic.

This symbolic spin game, by now, has gone so far that even the reversed circular spiral device on ‘Donate Life’ organ donation posters of the Washington (DC) Regional Transplant Community has been likened by numerous Twitter accounts to a scrawled spiral triangle symbol used on a few websites to represent the ‘little boy lovers’ community. This leap of silliness has generated the paranoid insinuation that the organ donation people are involved in trafficking parts of satanically sacrified children. (This won’t at first seem to make sense, but read on.)

Under investigation by Podesta-pickers, Alefantis soon yielded more conspiracy fodder to go along with his crossed paddle logo. His Instagram account showed photos and associated comments that struck Scribbly as weird.

[quote]

We recently found the instagram account of James Alefantis.

The contents of it are indescribably bizarre and the contexts of the posts and comment chains are weird. Alefantis does not have any children nor do his closest associates, but the photos seem to be a near constant assortment of different children of a variety of ages, intermingled between posts about gay bars, clubs, photos of common rape drugs, and piles of foreign currency. After it being trawled through for 24 hours it has been set to private. A large set of archived copies can be seen here in the next section. Similarly the instagram and twitter accounts of Comet Ping Pong are being edited selectively. The accounts of the people favoriting and commenting on these posts are equally bizarre in both content, context, and demeanor.

http://archive.is/9FN8n – Girl, striped, taped to table

http://archive.is/r93DT – Michelle Obama playing Ping Pong

http://archive.is/vSqri – Girl, drinking milk

http://archive.is/vaDfJ – Girl, standing in basket

http://archive.is/jXWrG – Photo of refrigerated meat locker, weird comments

[end quote]

And so on.

Here we come to an interesting point in the spin flurry around Comet Ping Pong, which rapidly surged from Scribbly’s starting point to become the ‘Pizzagate’ conspiracy movement. In my reading of the Pizzagate info you’ve seen so far, and more that will come later, I see an interesting clash between two strands of American culture, one of which may be being played upon by outside helpers. Americans, at least those of European ethnic background, are more-or-less divided between what I call romanticists and ironics. Romanticists tend to see the world in black-and-white terms, a confrontation between angels and demons. Children, to them, are among the angels, at least in theory (in real life, the brats may get it, but in theory they’re beyond precious). Proper décor in the household is all about niceness, or in religious homes, inspiration. For ironics, events like the holocaust made sentimental fervor and passionate locals-first politics suspect. They may be moved by the cuteness and innocent sincerity of a child, but feel compelled to make worldly and ironic remarks to show they’re not going over to the sentimental side. Their home décor may include elements that acknowledge human cruelty or sexuality, even if children are present – they think of this material as a needed reality check and a defense against woolly jingoism. Scribbly, examining the Alefantis Instagram, was a romanticist reading an ironic milieu. He saw creepiness wherever he looked, including children who weren’t haloed as iconic angels.

For example, the image Scribbly captions as “girl, striped, taped to table” showed a lass of about seven, grinning away, with her wrists paper-lightly adhesive-taped to a wooden tabletop. A commenter says ‘New seating area / procedure for your youngest guests? Hilar.’ (inferred ‘hilarious’ – BN). A second comment identifies the girl by her regularly used hashtag ‘carisjames,’ i.e., Caris (a last name is found in some sites), the god-daughter of James (Alefantis). There has been much speculation online about the name Caris, including a suggestion that it comes from the ‘date rape drug’ carisoprodol, but it’s just an anglicization of the Greek name Charis, meaning Grace. The surname Alefantis is also Greek. (A popular attempt by a Pizzagate conspiracist to derive ‘James Alefantis’ as the French ‘J’aime les enfants’ – I love children – was one of the more comical moments of spin exaggeration in this frenzy). This picture, in any case, clearly represents a momentary whimsy of some kind, a playful in-joke, but it breaks the romanticist law that children must be romanticized. Thus, as a third commenter notes, “this is pretty creepy, bro.” I suspect James found the tape a needed anodyne for a scene that might otherwise have been too darn cutesy to publish.

The photo that Scribbly captions ‘photo of a refrigerated meat locker, weird comments’ shows a walk-in refrigerator, emptied and cleaned, with a comment from ‘Jimmycomet’ (James Alefantis) saying “Oh yeah this looks fun.” The extreme cleanliness of the refrigerator suggests it may have been newly installed or recently stringently cleaned. Whether the comment is a restaurateur’s glee about a big fridge or a joking piece of grand-guignol theatrical comment (grand guignol is the tongue-in-cheek live-theater version of the horror movie) – or both – is ambiguous. Two commenters remark on how big the fridge is, which suggests it may be a new improvement in the business. Then a commenter pushes the grand-guignol button by saying “#killroom,” which leads to a series of follow-up jokes like “drunk tank,” “just wash it up when you’re done,” “#murder” (the hashtag would link this post to every other public Instagram post hashtagging murder – not exactly privately conspiratorial) and even “where the werewolves lock themselves up during the full moon?” Scribbly, as a hardcore romanticist, sees these comments as ‘weird’ and creepy, and has no notion of the apotropaic use of such motifs in modernist-ironic culture, where joking about such creepy interpretations is intended to neutralize their appearance in the imagination. Orthodox Pizzagatery represents this room as a real child-killing chamber, casually revealed on Instagram with elite fearlessness.

At times, it’s hard to know whether Scribbly and friends are genuinely experiencing naïve culture shock or deliberately putting invidious spin on things. A close-up photo showing the baby face of Caris (https://archive.li/gMkFG) at first has commenters remarking on her cuteness, with James as ‘jimmycomet’ then spiking the sentiment by commenting to her mother, “#themostexpensiveaccessory.” A commenter named Joe then says to James, “You are quickly becoming my favorite hashtagger #hotard.” The word ‘hotard,’ a common family name and the name of a bus line, also has a niche in the Urban Dictionary as ‘hoe’ (hiphop for whore) ‘tard,’ ‘an extra dumb promiscuous slut.’ James then replies to Joe with “#hotard.” Modernist-ironics can recognize this exchange as mock gay camp banter, with Joe calling James a slut in a friendly way, and James returning the ironic compliment. Joe’s phrase illustrates why one should never omit punctuation, even in internet terseness – a comma would have removed any ambiguity about who ‘hotard’ was addressed to. As it is, Scribbly and friends, seeing a sexual connotation defacing the comments next to an iconic cute baby, leap to the idea that the baby is being called a promiscuous slut. The comments, including the properly sentimental ones, are represented as a weird orgiastic code exchange involving sexualized babies.

The social media photos were only the beginning of Scribbly’s excited culture clash with James and his friends. It turned out James often helped organize art viewings at the house of John Podesta’s lobbyist brother Tony, and Tony was the quintessential anti-sentimental art collector. He was most proud of a large sculpture called ‘The Arch of Hysteria’ by Franco-American expressionist artist Louise Bourgeois. It showed a headless female body with back arched in an inverted U shape, a sign of extreme emotional distress. The sculpture dates to 1993, and places Bourgeois in the mainstream of modern women’s commentary on the Victorian-era psychological diagnosis of ‘hysteria,’ pioneered by French neurologist Jean-Martin Charcot. Youtube Pizzagate chronicler MartyLeeds33 remarks that “regardless of the artist, it seems to be a very morbid thing to have as a prized possession hanging in your living room.” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K6vvx2rHid0 23:56). This is really the nub of the problem. Marty and other Pizzagaters, as decorators, would prefer a nice landscape, a Victorian children’s painting, or even a snazzy abstract to the ‘morbid’ piece of flagrant reality acknowledged in metal by Bourgeois. Podesta, on the other hand, prefers decorating with acknowledgments of mortality.

He also owns paintings by Serbian artist Biljana ?ur?evic, someone viewed or spun as highly alarming by Scribbly and colleagues. From a piece I wrote earlier (https://justpaste.it/PizzaZaccaria):

[quote]

?ur?evic (pronounciation similar to Georgevich), as a survivor of a bloody civil war, had acquired a taste for depicting reality as gory and violent. Some of her paintings, as seen in a major art retrospective that was held in Haifa in 2009, showed things like half-naked soldiers with snarling Rottweilers tied to a rail, and a small, near-naked boy suspended with belts from the ceiling of a shower stall. Tony had a ?ur?evic in his living room showing two dead girls washed up in a marsh – something the artist had witnessed during the war – next to a larger painting showing living girls lying comfortably in a radiating circle among maple leaves scattered at the bottom of an empty, shallow, tiled pool.

[end quote]

And then there was Marina.

[quote]

The crème de la crème, however, of the sinister art Tony Podesta sponsored, was an evening of performance art by another Serbian artist, Marina Abramovi?. Marina’s oeuvre included hosting people in empty rooms where they could help her spread pig’s blood and other bodily fluids, like breast milk, on the walls and floors in an endeavor she called ‘spirit cooking.’ They wrote slogans in blood like ‘with a sharp knife, cut deeply into the middle finger of your left hand. Eat the pain.’ She had published an art book containing some of this visceral quasi-haiku in 1996. The hands-on performance was supposed to induce a feeling of being at one with reality in all its danger and vulnerability, while containing its chaos with made-up ritual.

To the conspiracy theorists, this ‘spirit cooking’ was Satanism, pure and simple. It showed that the elite pedophiles must be taking part in the legendary ‘satanic ritual abuse,’ the subject of a major, painstakingly debunked moral-panic outbreak in the 1990s (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Satanic_ritual_abuse).

[end quote]

The Pizzagaters apparently gave no thought to the idea that the art interests of Alefantis, the Podestas and friends could be showing a determination to prevail against the gore and possible hysteria (now called PTSD, in part) of real life by acknowledging and containing them. There was no reflection that people interested in visceral-reality art might honor, value, respect and protect a baby or child as much as the romanticists did. The imagery was just too disturbing; therefore, the people must be just as disturbing, if not more so.

The thought that the Pizzagaters have formed themselves, through all their fearful emoting, into a headless Arch of Hysteria, pre-satirized by Podesta’s artworks, is hard to escape. There was something relevant in that statue after all.

Marina inadvertently helped the idea that her art was disturbing with a statement on reddit in response to a questioner asking “What place do you see the occult as having in contemporary art? Can magick be made (not simply appropriated / performed)?

She responded “Everything depends on which context you are doing what you are doing. If you are doing the occult magic in the context of art or a gallery, then it is the art. If you are doing it in a different context, in spiritual circles or private house or on TV shows, it is not art. The intention, the context for what is made, and where it is made defines what art is or not.”

(https://i.reddituploads.com/e0208fc938dc4577bc8f566c9faddc2f?fit=max&h=1536&w=1536&s=9afe06b2dec02f85192fb49dcfc2a043)

Most of us from the modernist-ironic side of life have read a lot curatorial notes and artist quotes with this sort of commentary. The conclusion I and many friends have drawn is that they mostly illustrate that it’s a dubious idea to try to explain or define art in writing. Marina’s ‘spirit cooking’ is loosely based on some folk magic attributed to the Romanian diaspora community in Serbia, but she’s clearly practicing and making her name as an artist – no magical deeds have been attributed to her. MartyLeeds33 thinks Marina’s statement shows that she goes all-out into the occult when she’s doing a house party, the sort of showing she did for Tony Podesta. This leaves unexplained why a televised presentation, stated by Marina not to be ‘art,’ would be more séance-like than a public art gallery performance. I think Marina has actually diplomatically sidestepped the ‘magick’ person’s question and commented that her art was ‘art’ per se when it was contained in a context usually labelled art, but was something less formal when found outside of recognized art precincts, such as in a house or on television. Certainly, there’s no indication that anyone has attempted to invoke the satanic forces by showing Marina’s oeuvre on T.V.

Symbolizing nitty-gritty mortal reality with blood, in any case, is one of the most prominent artistic tropes of the late 20th century and the current day. In parallel, the attempt by post-feminists to supplant Christian rituals with neo-pagan symbolisms like healing crystals and solstice gatherings has also been a prominent running theme. Actual invocations of malevolent forces in such endeavors tend to be just as forbidden as they are in Christianity; these forces represent domination and power, which in turn represent male evil. Satan is the epitome of the male rapist woman-batterer. He has no devotees in this feminist-influenced blood-and-chanting milieu. Still less is there any affinity for the ultimate feminist symbol of abusive male power, the sexual exploitation of children.

Sometime around the time Scribbly started the Pizzagate frisson spinning, someone, either in an intelligence community or in a low-intelligence community, had a catalytic moment of what you could call spinspiration. Among the bucketloads of banalities in the Clinton and Podesta emails, there were many communications related to fundraising events, and it turned out many such events involved pizza. This word rang a bell from the specific milieu of the wild-and-crazy 4chan website, where there was a history going back to at least 2010 of people using ‘cheese pizza’ as a euphemism for another item abbreviated ‘c.p.,’ namely, child pornography. A poster called Luckless on the minor-attracted website boychat.org noted in July, 2012, that “posting a picture of a pizza pie (on 4chan) would be enough to prompt people into replying with kiddy porn.” Such threads were soon deleted, even on 4chan, but were very active in their short timespan. (Boychat itself is a news and discussion board that does not allow image posting).

The emails also mentioned other foods, and this spinspired other adventurers to look for connections to hidden pedo signaling. Someone soon remembered that the gay community in the mid-20th century had referred to men attracted to beardless, post-pubescent youths (including both legal and underage beardless males) as ‘chicken hawks,’ sometimes rendered ‘chicken lovers.’ The admired youths were termed ‘chicken’ because of their smooth skin. Any references to chicken could thus be spun as pedophile code. Then a particularly ambitious Podesta-picker who had clearly read through many emails came up with a theoretical list of what other food names might mean. The FBI had posted a bulletin a few years earlier depicting the various pedophile logos, including those mentioned above, and this Pizzagater or his/her later recyclers falsely attributed the ad-hoc food code list to the FBI. The clue that these food codes were made up specifically to spin innuendo into the Podesta and Clinton emails can be seen in the presence of the completely incongruous word ‘map,’ as I’ll soon illustrate.

[quote]

“hotdog” = boy

“pizza” = girl

“cheese” = little girl

“ice cream” = male prostitute

“walnut” or “nuts” = person of color

“map” = semen

“sauce” = orgy

[end quote]

All of these codes are, as far as I can determine, complete fictions, but ‘map’ is specifically a retrofit designed to incriminate a slightly off-beat email received (not sent) by John Podesta. John was out looking for summer rental properties in Martha’s Vineyard, New York State, and was thought to have left a souvenir handkerchief behind at one of the places his rental broker took him to. Here’s the email series, minus unrelated back-emails I’ve trimmed off. In the first, the owners’ agent contacts John’s broker or local contact, Susan Sandler, to say a handkerchief has been left. In the second, Sandler emails John about it. In the meantime, she’s clearly obtained a further description of the handkerchief, most likely by telephone. It appears to be a souvenir or promotional handkerchief with a city map printed on it, an antiquey sort of souvenir that’s still produced for sale in New York and other major cities. (Vintage collector example of a New York hankie depicted online: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/451274825135815302/)

[quote]

From: Kathryn Tate

Sent: Tuesday, September 02, 2014 10:04 AM

To: Sandler, Susan

Subject: You left something at the Field house

Susan & Herb

I just came from checking the Field house and I have a square cloth handkerchief (white w/ black) that was left on the kitchen island. Happy to send it via the mail if you let me know where I should send it.

I also meant to inquire yesterday about the pillows you purchased. I can send them as well, if you let me know where they are in the house.

Safe travels to all

Kate

From:ss@sandlerfoundation.org

To: john.podesta

Date: 2014-09-02 17:54

Subject: Did you leave a handkerchief

Hi John,

The realtor found a handkerchief (I think it has a map that seems pizza-related.) Is it yours? They can send it if you want. I know you’re busy, so feel free not to respond if it’s not yours or you don’t want it.

Susaner

[end quote]

Pizzagaters were tantalized by the pizza reference, since it promised sexual scandal, but what to do with the ‘map’ in the description? Someone clearly had the brainwave that the blotch of a semen stain could be likened to a topographical shape, so that Susan might be ‘in’ on pedophilic rituals and actively conspiring with Podesta to return him the evidence of the ‘map’ he had made while sexually assaulting a ‘pizza.’ The fake FBI food code was sent out including this equivalence, legitimizing the pedophilic interpretation of ‘map.’ Bizarrely, most Pizzagaters find this email to be the number one smoking gun in the Podesta files ‘proving’ that the elites gather to rape and sacrifice small children. I can only assume they’ve never seen a map handkerchief. I find this particularly funny since I own one myself – a downtown Manhattan street map, sans pizza. The only thing that would make the Podesta hankie ‘pizza-related’ is that it was produced by a pizzeria and had logos or other advertising content on it. This would have been a limited-edition run of promotionals and thus potentially something that a collector might want to keep.

On the other hand, the idea that someone would offer to mail back a hankie with a semen stain on it from a criminal orgy is completely devoid of plausibility. If such a rag existed, it would be destroyed. This kind of lapse of reason has made people imagine the Pizzagaters are all nutteroonies, but anyone hastily drawing this conclusion may be underestimating the power of spin to use apparent madness in its favor.

In February 2017, pink-haired Pizzagater Mellisa Zaccaria (@thehoneybee_ on Twitter), thought she’d decloaked a more rational explanation of the ‘pizza-related map.’ Having discovered that the phrase ‘minor-attracted person’ is often abbreviated ‘MAP’ online, she believed she could retranslate the phrase as ‘child-porn related pedophile.’ She came up with a conspiracy scheme that implicated the rental broker as an accessory to mass child rape.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24sQ45MD2_w 11:45)

[quote]

..This woman (Susan Sandler – BN) must have maybe shown an interest in some of this depravity of exploiting children, maybe a party where they’re spirit cooking, maybe – something.

Someone has left this handkerchief, I believe it to be John Podesta, I believe he left it for this woman, Susan Sandler, to let her know that he has the goods, that he can connect her with people, that maybe in the Cape he can provide that this sort of child exploitative service. I believe that John Podesta left this handkerchief for Susan Sandler to let her know that he has access and/or connections for this person – maybe not for her, but for clients that she deals with. She deals with VERY WEALTHY clients that may be interested in child sex parties, in child sex trafficking, child pornography, whatever. This is clear to me that John has left handkerchiefs before at other places. I think it has ‘a minor attracted person that seems child porn related’ – that’s how you would read this email…. This is kind of a new finding and I think it’s really important.

[end quote]

Mellisa got ahold of some historic information about coy Victorian maidens signaling romantic interest by ‘accidentally’ leaving fancy handkerchiefs behind at social occasions. She used this info to back up her wild scheme for cloth-based Satanic child rape communication. Her scenario has John Podesta using casually dropped hankies to announce his child rape pimping services to local real estate people in vacation spots for the wealthy. I believe that the only impulse that could lead a person to cleave to such a loopy idea is what I call ‘acadenvia,’ the envy of academics. Pizzagaters are mostly reasonably well educated people who aren’t trained as academic researchers, but they delight in their home-made ‘eureka’ discoveries, and their fascinating click-based research. Any novel conspiracy idea they come up with feels like a major scientific breakthrough to them. Impressing other conspiracy theorists is the kitchen research equivalent of a Nobel prize. Suddenly, they have entered a whole parallel ‘research’ universe where they can have credibility and not be left behind in grunt-world by people who got more education than they did. The ego stroking this process provides serves to buoy the most far-fetched ideas into long-term life. Whole conspiracy communities imagine that they, not the practitioners of cautiously correlated academic method, are the true bearers of realistic understanding. It’s a thrill.

Pizzagate ‘researchers’ all heavily stress the allegedly incriminating ‘weird’ emails they’ve collected with food references in them. These accusations all fall apart at the slightest examination. I’ll go over more important examples before we move on.

A frequently seen one, from Fred Burton at the strategic intelligence company Stratfor in Austin, Texas, says “I think Obama spent about $65,000 of taxpayer’s money flying in pizza/dogs from Chicago for a private party at the White House, assume we are using the same channels?” Pizzagaters point out that White House security doesn’t allow catered food. The place has five full-time chefs who are surely capable of boiling up some weiners. What’s going on here? Couldn’t this mean that Barack Obama – who not only knows John Podesta but also is shown in a favourite Pizzagate photo playing ping pong with a young boy in a White House corridor – was flying in young boys and girls from Chicago at great expense for a (somehow) clandestine rape-and-sacrifice gala?

Looking at associated emails, however, shows that Burton’s mail was one of a series. The series began with Fletch Good writing, “Well, you guys all seemed to enjoy the first Hot Dog Day back in mid-August so much, I thought I’d volunteer again to do another hot dog run tomorrow for lunch. For those of you who weren’t around the first time, the place is called Dog Almighty [now out of business], it’s down on South Lamar near the Manchaca intersection (in Austin). As I said before, this place has the most awesome hot dogs and fries in town.” (Etc. – another paragraph follows with hotdog details and rhapsody about award-winning chili and vegetarian options).

So far, this seems to be about hot dogs. Fletch Good, on Oct. 10, 2008, tells everyone to get their orders in, and tells publishing Vice-President Aaric Eisenstein that he’s also expected to be interested, so he should get his order in.

The event must have been a success, because on May 14, 2009, Stratfor President Don Kuykendall announces yet another hot dog feast, this time billed as “Chicago Hot Dog Friday.” A search on Google maps shows that while Dog Almighty is now closed, there are several places in Austin that bill themselves as ‘Chicago Style’ hot dog vendors, including Lucky Dog Chicago-Style grill and Chi-town Chicago-style Eatery. Even the Mangia Pizza shop not far from Stratfor’s head office is selling ‘Chicago Style Pizza.’ Chicago is a big deal in Austin restaurants. Don makes a typical CEO’s praise statement, “to celebrate all you hotdogs out there” (a ‘hotdog’ being a risk-taker and high achiever) and again invites Aaric to participate.

In response to this, half an hour later, Fletch Good sends off the response that made him famous: “I think Obama spent about $65,000 of taxpayer’s money flying in pizza/dogs from Chicago for a private party at the White House, assume we are using the same channels?” This is clearly a joke about how the hot dogs got to be ‘Chicago Hot Dogs’ this time – are they going to be flown in from Chicago? If so, how are we paying for it? Barack Obama is from Chicago, so a fantasy is spun forth about him using his infinite tax resources to fly Chicago dogs and pizza in to the White House. What grain of truth this jest may have in it is hard to say – perhaps Obama did have a large barbecue party with Chicago-style dogs, or perhaps Fletch is just free-wheeling. The “I think” and “about” are typical setups for humorous exaggeration. In any case, the question is either barbed humor or giddy humor, and it has nothing realistic to say about Obama actually transporting anything from Chicago.

This conversation would seem 100% foody except that Aaric Eisenstein quips “If we get the same ‘waitresses,’ I’m all for it.” It isn’t obvious exactly what this refers to – restaurant staff delivering hot dogs, female Stratfor colleagues handing them out? – but the Pizzagate interpretation that the ‘waitresses’ are code-hot-dog (young boy) sexual assault victims or accompanying little girl victims seems absolutely preposterous. Some Pizzagaters see gunsmoke in the quotes around ‘waitresses,’ but apart from any office in-joke this may refer to, the word is generally under opprobrium as sexist, and is replaced by the neutral ‘server’ in polite discourse. Aaric is therefore quoting from old-style language.

Having worked in a workplace that had pizza parties, I have to say, to turn such an appreciated sort of festivity into a false accusation of sexual brutality is perverse, grotesque, and, frankly, sick. But Pizzagaters know no shame.

In yet another branch of their email speculations, they beat up on a doting granddad.

Here’s the email exchange that got Herb Sandler into boiling nutter oil.

[quote]

From:john.podesta@

To: hs@sandlerfoundation.org (altered)

Date: 2015-12-24 21:42

Subject: Re: Cheese

Miss you Herb. Happy Holidays and see you in 2016.

On Thursday, December 24, 2015, Sandler, Herbert

wrote:

Mary (Podesta – BN) and John

I think you should give notice when changing strategies which have been

long in place. I immediately realized something was different by the shape

of the box and I contemplated who would be sending me something in the

square shaped box. Lo and behold, instead of pasta and wonderful sauces, it

was a lovely, tempting assortment of cheeses, Yummy. I am awaiting the

return of my children and grandchildren from their holiday travels so that

we can demolish them.

Thank you so much. I hope you and your gang are well.

I miss you both

Best wishes for a merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

Herb

Do you think I’ll do better playing dominos on cheese than on pasta?

[end quote]

The sane interpretation of this email is both obvious and heartwarming. Perhaps in connection with sojourns at Martha’s Vineyard, the Podestas send an annual Christmas gift to Herb Sandler, most likely related to Susan, mentioned above. Usually it’s a box with samples of pasta and jars of different sauces; this year it has changed to an array of fine cheeses instead. Herb isn’t going to start eating the treats by himself; he’s going to wait for his grandchildren to arrive. He plans to spend quality time with them playing dominos, as he must do every year, since he jokingly asks if John and Mary think he’ll win more easily if he is metabolically stoked on cheese rather than pasta. One infers the grandchildren do quite well against him.

The child pornographic or rapist interpretation of the ‘dominos’ phrase is so far from probability that a rational mind can’t encompass it. Yet this phrase is a major player in every recitation of Pizzagate quasi-evidence. Herb’s contemplation of parlor games with his grandchildren has put him in the internet pillory where the spiteful and relentless hope to taunt him forever.

The clash between romanticist and modernist culture comes out again in the next email I’ll discuss, one that gets the Pizzagaters very excited because it discusses actual children. This one involves a planned recreational trip to a farm by a Hillary Clinton associate called Tamera Luzzatto, who is clearly also friends with John and Mary Podesta. She is planning to bring her grandchildren out to the farm, which has a swimming pool they are well known to enjoy. The email series mentioning this is giddy from start to finish; it features a DC lawyer called Drew Littman, then part of legal counsel for the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, mocking past political stagings done at farms by saying, “Thanks for remembering me, as I was planning to use the farm as the backdrop to announce my candidacy for speaker of the house.” Getting in on the joke, Tamera Luzzatto quips, “Well, since Hillary stood with (Democrat Senator Daniel) Moynihan at his farm with bales of hay to run for the Senate seat, HELLO SPEAKER Littman!” Littman then goes into full comedy mode with

[quote]

Also, if terrorists or unhappy former Clinton/Kerry interns with submachine guns attack the farm during my remarks, we won’t all die, because I’ll make a split-second decision lead us in a well-coordinated and ultimately totally successful charge against them. This is going to be a great day all-around.

[end quote]

The email series has begun with wry humor; Tamera Luzzatto is making the invitation, and also backhandedly excusing her plan to mix some children into this excursion that colleagues have been invited to.

[quote]

With enormous gratitude to Advance Man Extraordinaire (Jon) Haber, I am popping up again to share our excitement about the Reprise of Our Gang’s visit to the farm in Lovettsville. And I thought I’d share a couple more notes: We plan to heat the pool, so a swim is a possibility. Bonnie will be Uber Service to transport Ruby, Emerson, and Maeve Luzzatto (11, 9, and almost 7) (children of son Ben Luzzatto and actress Alexandra Tydings – BN) so you’ll have some further entertainment, and they will be in that pool for sure. And with the forecast showing prospects of some sun, and a cooler temp of lower 60s, I suggest you bring sweaters or whatever attire will enable us to use our outdoor table with a pergola overhead so we dine al fresco (and ideally not al-CHILLo).

[end quote]

The phrase that has pricked the ears of the romanticist Pizzagate readers is ‘entertainment.’ This suggests to them that the children are being used to provide some sort of entertainment service for the adults, which in turn makes their everclean minds immediately turn to sex. They don’t realize, or don’t wish to realize, that modernists often excuse the intrusion of children with such ironic phrases, in this case meaning “they may draw your attention whether you like it or not, especially if you plan to go swimming.” The actual intention inverted within the irony is to forewarn and mollify people who are reticent to mix socially with children, not to announce the children as entertainment possibilities. Romanticists aren’t much on irony, unless it’s militarized as sarcasm, and prefer to see children presented as suitably cocooned and venerated. The word ‘entertainment,’ in their mindset, is far too brash to be applied to kids, making them sound like, perhaps, showgirls or even strippers.

Thus, a civil warning that ‘there will be noisy kids at the pool’ has become a deadly orgy in Pizzagate lore. Littman has clearly decided NOT to lead a “a well-coordinated and ultimately totally successful charge against” these psycho-terrorists, so he’s not going to get any nomination for hero of the Pizzagate day. I suppose he reasons that those who charge against nuts may become hazardous to people with peanut allergies.

The last email I’ll mention is the one that Pizzagaters take as proof of the Satan-worshipping designs of the elite pedo-pizzaphiles.

It’s a complicated series about a delicate negotiation

[quote]

HONDURAS: MAYBE, MAYBE

From: Cheryl Mills

To: Hillary Clinton

Date: 2009-08-28 13:30

Subject: HONDURAS: MAYBE, MAYBE

UNCLASSIFIED U.S. Department of State Case No. F-2014-20439 Doc No. C05764911 Date: 07/31/2015

From: Mills, Cheryl D

Sent: Saturday, August 29, 2009 8:30PM

To: (redacted)

Subject: Fw: Honduras: Maybe, maybe

Fyi

From: Kelly, Craig A

To: Mills, Cheryl D; Abedin, Huma; Sullivan, Jacob 3

Cc: Smith, Daniel B; Macmanus, Joseph E

Sent: Sat Aug 29 16:53:56 2009

Subject: Fw: Honduras: Maybe, maybe

Attached is from Lew Amselem, our rep to OAS (Organization of American States). He gives a readout of his conversation today with Arias Accord negotiator Jon Biehl. Some nice comments about S from Biehl and (Costa Rican president Oscar) Arias. I will forward another note from Hugo Llorens with similar message. Best, ck

From: Amselem, W Lewis

To: Task Force Honduras; Otero, Maria

Sent: Sat Aug 29 13:54:22 2009

Subject: Honduras: Maybe, maybe

From: amseleM

To: Amselem, W Lewis

Sent: Sat Aug 29 13:51:00 2009

Subject:

Biehl called a little after 1:30 pm to say the meeting with the de facto envoys had been abruptly cancelled – but for perhaps a positive reason.

(Post-coup President-designate Roberto) Micheletti has asked about half the team to return to Tegucigalpa (Corrales stayed, as “he seeks to confirm that he will not lose his visa”). In the phone call he got from the de facto envoys as they headed for the airport, Biehl said he detected a positive attitude. The envoys seemed confident they would get M (= deposed president Manuel Zelaya) to sign the SJ (= San Juan) Accord. The envoys promised to call Biehl late this afternoon with the news from Honduras. If, if, if, if, the news is positive, Biehl and OAS Political Director Victor Rico will leave for Tegucigalpa tomorrow morning to meet Micheletti, make sure this is not another time-wasting tactic, and get something in writing from him that he agrees to the Accord and will sign it.

Just before speaking to me, Biehl had spoken with Arias who expressed cautious optimisim that we might have a break-through. Arias told Biehl to tell us, that if that happens the United States gets the credit.

Arias said the US has played the game exactly right, with the appropriate mix of carrots, sticks, toughness, unified message, even-handedness and, above all, good timing. Arias said the Europeans have been calling him over the past two days, and have fallen into line with the US; the Swedes, as head of the EU, and have told him that they will take their cue from the US and will support US actions. Arias, Biehl said, was extremely complimentary of the “great political instincts shown by Secretary Clinton.”

-1-4n

UNCLASSIFIED U.S. Department of State Case No. F-2014-20439 Doc No. C05764911 Date: 07/31/2015

With fingers crossed, the old rabbit’s foot out of the box in the attic, I will be sacrificing a chicken in the backyard to Moloch . . .

Tri

[end quote]

https://wikileaks.org/clinton-emails/emailid/14333

This email relates to an event called the Honduran Constitutional Crisis of 2009. In it, Honduran President Manuel Zelaya, who seemed to be embarking on changing the constitution so that he could serve additional terms of office, was ousted by the army at the behest of the Supreme Court. He went to exile in Costa Rica. House Speaker Roberto Michelletti was installed as the new president, an existing protocol applying to the resignation or death of a standing President. Long time Central American peace negotiators Oscar Arias, president of Costa Rica, and Jon Biehl, from the UK, worked with Hillary Clinton’s group and the Organization of American States (OAS) to try to effect a political solution that would allow Zelaya to resume his seat under certain conditions so that the tendency towards state coups could be controlled. The solution failed; Honduras refused to reinstall Zelaya, and the country was suspended for two years from the OAS. Eventually it was reinstated, and, in 2011, Zelaya was repatriated to Honduras and new serves on the nation’s behalf in the coordinating body called the Central American Parliament.

The only part of this mail that interests the Pizzagaters is someone’s tag at the end saying, in effect, that they know the negotiations have been dicey and they hope the ‘Arias’ reconciliation deal will go through. To wish the deal luck, they joke that they will cross their fingers, rub a lucky rabbit’s foot, and sacrifice a chicken to the ancient Canaanite god Moloch, whose name is (apparently unbeknownst to the Pizzagaters) frequently used in such circumstances.

Pizzagaters have gone into tremendous detail on the relationship of Moloch to Canaanite child sacrifices reported in the Old Testament – and especially on the eerie connection between the greedy Satanic deity and the concept of ‘chicken’ – as noted above, part of the food code taken to suggest pedophilic interest. There is no content in these Honduran emails the least bit compatible with pedosexual activities, but to Pizzagaters, the postscript serves as proof that the Clinton elite are Satan-worshippers connected to child sacrifice.

Serendipitously, as I was researching this article, I had lunch with a colleague who’s a security expert, and in talking about the troubled course of his latest threat-risk report for a federal department, he said “now all we need to do is wave a few dead chickens back and forth in the air and pronounce the whole thing ritually pure.”

The Pizzagaters don’t realize that people in the techno-bureaucratic world say these things all the time. It is, once again, irony, the conversational trope they misunderstand or find exploitable for spin mischief. Perhaps romanticists wouldn’t bandy about the name of a bad ole idol like Moloch, but modern-ironics have no fear of abusing the historical artifact’s dreadful name in a joke.

If a mountain was ever built out of a semantic mole hill, Pizzagate is that volcanic innuendo heap.

You might question, then: to what extent here is the motivation maladroitness, madness or machination? Are these people naïve, insane or deliberately herding a mob with scare tactics? There may be examples of all three motivations. Mellisa Zaccaria strikes me as being in the naïve camp, newly ‘woke’ to the conspiracy theory, and finding out with ga-ga revelation that long established terms like ‘MAP’ (minor attracted person) exist. She seems to sincerely believe that elites are torturing and killing hundreds of children, even as we speak. This is obviously not well thought out. Even though tens of thousands of young people are reported missing every year – usually teens who’ve had spats with their caregivers – most are found within a short time. A major public effort is usually made to find every truly missing child, other than teen runaways who’ve exhausted the patience of their relatives or are left in peace because they’re better off away from abusive guardians (and old enough to emancipate if they could get through the legal work). Long-term, mysterious disappearances are so unusual that they can mostly be collected into a manageable Wikipedia list and also into specialized websites for people who trace the missing as an avocation. My local transit system had screens showing images of missing children from all the nearby states; I soon came to recognize every one of the names and faces. Most of the cases were decades old and the series of images seldom changed. In the UK, allegations of cruel and sometimes ritualized abuse by elite people such as former PM Edward Heath and Conservative member of Parliament Harvey Proctor were eventually laid to rest by showing without doubt that the children the complainant ‘Nick’ said had been murdered could not have existed. All candidate missing children were well documented and could be ruled out as matches for Nick’s lurid tales of knifepoint rape, torture, near-drowning, and being asked to pick which friend would die next. Mellisa is fiercely devoted to helping suffering and tortured children who are purely figments of imagination. And her situation is unlikely to change, since she’s now being spoken to by a storytelling woman, a female ‘Nick’ pseudonymed ‘Emma’ (readily determined by a seeding of clues as a Tracy Remington) who, though luckily protected by audible direct advice from God, claims that police departments throughout the U.S. shelter satanic abuse cabals, as exemplified by the McMinnville, OR, police, who refuse to deal with child porn hidden in pdf files by her husband (https://www.thesun.co.uk/news/2173222/stepbrother-of-vip-paedo-fantasist-nick-reveals-serial-liar-has-torn-apart-their-family-with-constant-probing-from-police/; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bIj7cMSs_UI). Remington also believes the Facebook game Farmville connects through pop-ups to bestiality porn made by her husband. All witch-hunts begin with such storytellers, who suffer either from schizophrenia or from variants of factitious disorder / Munchausen syndrome. The latter is characterized by the concocting of dramatic, often bizarre sufferings, either personally or on behalf of a proxy such as a child, to attract sympathetic attention.

In terms of Pizzagaters whose actual grip on reality seems compromised – the madness option – Alex Jones of the Infowars website comes to the forefront, or at least, he appears to. This wide-eyed, gesticulating video presenter has unleashed some of the battiest conspiracy rants these bunk-battered ears have ever heard. My researcher colleagues have transcribed some examples from a Youtube video called ‘LIVE: Police/Military Involved in U.S. Pedophile Roundup Speak Out,’ and I’ll document those below (Jones gives blanket permission to reproduce his material) along with notations about actual facts involved. Jones’ most common modus operandi is to take a catchy headline, vaguely refer to the facts of the associated story, and then go on a lurid, often grotesque fantasy jag about all the hidden back stories that he claims are only known to himself and privileged insiders. Lately, he’s been abetted in this by former Navy Seal and current television personality and special effects guru Craig Sawyer, who claims to be the source of some of the hidden stories – including thousands of child murders that obviously can’t have happened. I’ll come back to Craig presently. First, here’s Alex. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=606T-rqodzw, April 1). I’ve quoted his material extensively because it gives a good indication of the general flavor of Pizzagate and its broader-perspective sister-conspiracy Pedogate. My comments are in curly brackets.

[quote]

“Trump is rolling them up but then nothing’s done – the courts are sitting on it! {The alt-right proposition that Donald Trump has accelerated the arrests of child sexual exploiters is unsupported by facts – https://reason.com/blog/2017/02/27/trumps-fake-crackdown-on-sex-trafficking}. Kinda like the courts announce they won’t deport illegal aliens. And he said, it’s unbelievable, Trump moved against all this, they’re catching them WITH the kids in cages {no kids have been found in cages in sex busts. Closest real news story is that rapist/murderer Todd Kohlhepp kept an adult woman in a shipping container. The most prominent recent sex trafficking bust found nothing akin to cages http://ktla.com/2017/02/01/474-arrested-28-sexually-exploited-children-rescued-during-statewide-human-trafficking-operation-lasd/} – Jerry Sandusky’s son just got indicted as a major procurer {not true: he tried, via online chat, to interest two underage girls in sexting or oral sex, http://www.cnn.com/2017/02/13/us/jerry-sandusky-son-charged/index.html} – you’re seeing hundreds of arrests in New York, hundreds in Florida, hundreds all over, hundreds in Illinois {no unusual numbers of arrests have happened, especially not in ultra-vigilant Polk County, FL where Sheriff Grady Judd’s online stings have been pulling them in for years}. Remember Dennis Hastert, speaker of the House, pedophile procurer {he offended only prior to 1973 when he was a teacher and not yet married – see Wikipedia} – and since he was a procurer, he got put in as the head Republican {fabrication}. You’re coming out with the police capturing the former British prime minister {fabrication}, I’ve got mainstream headlines, here’s Washington Post, “How the BBC star Jimmy Savile allegedly got away with abusing 500 children and sex with dead bodies” – Satanism! {Speculation derived from UK tabloids and probably minimally connected to reality}. That’s the Washington Post’s whitewash. They FOUND the dungeons where the kids said they were {fabrication}. They FOUND the dead bodies {fabrication}. They declared national security {conspiracy theory excuse for why Jones and Sawyer’s assertions can’t be evidenced}. Now why is this important? Because the globalist British taste – it’s not the British people – the weird Romanian Hungarian – I mean, nothing against them either – Transylvanian royal blood line that became the German royal blood line {Prince Charles claims Vlad Dracula, 15th century voivode of Wallachia, is interconnected among his European royal ancestors, but Wallachia is not Transylvania and Vlad’s only connection to the vampire ‘Count Dracula’ is in the pilfering of his surname for Bram Stoker’s 1897 fiction.} and now the British – I mean hell, Prince Charles literally lives now in Transylvania {untrue} and is involved in all this unbelievable stuff – the point is, is that he was best buddies with Jimmy Savile and would quote bring kids to Prince Charles to ‘love on’ {fabrication}. And then you google Prince Charles hugging kids in orphanages, it’s just unbelievable. {Charles carried out some charitable actions in Romania and bought several guest houses there for tourists to stay in. https://www.treehugger.com/green-architecture/stay-at-prince-charles-historical-guest-house-in-romania.html}

“Watching all the censorship, and watching the media say ‘pedophilia doesn’t exist’ {fabrication} when task forces are arresting thousands of people a month, in hundreds of cases WITH the kids in CAGES {fabrication}– that he has CIA Defence Intelligence, MI6, MI5, German intelligence, NATO – (shows pics of logos) … snuff films {fabrication}, kids in cages {fabrication}, mass rape, child porn, all of it .. and then they see them arrested and then nothing happens {To gain a search warrant requires a cooperating judge, and documents of arrests are on the public record, so the fiction of mysterious raid cases where courts refuse prosecution is easily seen to be false}.

10:30 “LA sheriff’s office saying ‘these are kids grabbed out of back yards, you name it.’ {quote not found, nor anything resembling it, except warnings given out about coyotes}

11:10 “This is the most shameful part. Trolls on Youtube, trolls on info, at levels I’ve never seen, are saying ‘there’s no such thing as pedophilia’ {fabrication} or ‘pedophilia is good’ and they are all over the place and you’ve got NAMBLA {dormant} and you’ve got Salon writers saying ‘legalize pedophilia, it’s a good thing,’ {Salon interviewed ‘virtuous’ pedophile Todd Nickerson, who rejects sex with children and is already ‘legalized’ by obeying the existing law} that’s the new trendy liberalism where they’re now beginning to bully people, saying ‘just accept it, go along with it, the UK’s trying to lower the age of consent {there is no suggestion in UK government or political parties to do this}, this is the coming-out of the pedophiles, the lowering of the age of consent. But while they PUSH to say ‘we’re people, let us run your lives, let us have your kids’ {classic witchhunt ‘they’re putting you out of control’ scare rhetoric} they’re saying ‘it doesn’t exist, you’re crazy’ {Jones is probably referring to people saying his own conspiracy theories are unreal}.

16:50 re Comet Pizza: “there’s probably nothing going on there.” – “the media is gonna confab some thing to divert us off on.” {Jones was an avid Pizzagater until Alefantis’s lawyer sent him some stern paperwork; he then made a retraction. His muddled explanation was that the Comet Ping Pong story was probably a false lead planted by the media.}

“Folks, they will delete police press conferences on Youtube when they bust pedophiles with 4-year-olds in bed – I’ve got stacks of news this week with a bust – they’re just running scared, everywhere they’re blocking, everywhere. {conspiracy hoax}

“From the law enforcement sources we’ve got, they are raping kids to death. {fabrication} Cause the bottom of it’s Satanism and killing kids and that’s known {actually, it’s a persistent myth}, it’s come out in the British news, they found the Satanic altars at Savile’s house, in a hidden crypt, you know, the-the-the-the dead kids he had sex with, all of it – so this is all confirmed {fabrication}

20:30 “Hillary Clinton is an enabler and a supporter of pedophilia.”

(story, Daily Express, “Jimmy Savile was part of Satanic ring” James Fielding, Jan 13, 2013) {Tabloid story not corroborated – journalistic fiction: http://saff.nfshost.com/savilemonster.htm }.

21:00 “There’s a wave coming against globalism {political agenda showing}. Globalism is run by psychopaths that are inbred who hate humanity and have no caring. If you’re a total psychopath, what’s the greatest thing to abuse for your thrill – CHILDREN! Type in Jimmy Savile, Prince Charles, his best friend, highest level national security clearance, and they finally confirmed what was said by BBC reporters 20 years ago {untrue} – they’d bring little girls in before the Prime Minister and they’d put plastic out – his favorite was about a 6- or 7-year-old – he wouldn’t have sex with them, they would slit their throat and he would masturbate while they died {outlandish fabrication – insanity or unscrupulous fear manipulation? The only Prime Minister about whom there were pedophile rumors was Ted Heath, who was actually a closet gay, but minimally sexually active; even the debunked rumors only involved boys}. Then Savile would have sex with the bleeding-to-death little girl {insanity-like fabrication}. So Savile is raping little girls while blood shoots out of their neck like Baron Harkonen in Heart Plug [1984 David Lynch film of Dune] and all this is going on and it’s mainstream news {no…}

(shows news story by Richard Kay, Daily Mail, 12 Jun 2015, ‘How Savile seduced the royals,’ which includes nothing similar to the garish fiction just put out by Jones)

27:15 “Whether you believe in the devil or not, these groups are all into it, because it’s about focusing and being selfish and hurting innocent things and getting off on the fact that they have the will to do it. (grinds hips in his chair on cam)

“Behind the scenes, the military and these high risk raids they’re doing on heavily armed compounds all over the United States {fabrication, though common pimps do tend to have guns} – and they’ve found Islamics are involved – obviously in Islam there’s a lot of pedophilia, sex slavery – harems also have children, Saudi Arabia basically has legalized pedophilia – you just can’t have sex with kids when you’re a kid, it’s when you’re an adult you can, and as an adult you can’t have sex with other men, but ONLY with kids, that’s like, I mean it’s the sickest crap you’ve ever … that’s admitted in the Quran {distorted: the Quran allows married sex only, with up to four wives, plus slave women}, which was written in Saudi Arabia (it wasn’t Saudi Arabia then but you know it is now) … it was like a camel raiding slaving group and then they took over Mecca … the purest form of Islam is this wahhabi group and it’s just pedophilia writ large {traditional Sharia in some zones allows marriage of pre-teens, but most wives are adult}

“You just can’t make it up … you get into these elites, and he’s Transylvanian {shows European Commission chair Jean-Claude Juncker, who’s from Luxembourg} – the literal heir of the real Nazi Fod (sic).’

“These are parasites of the middle ages that got all the money in the Crusades … They then had the bloodlines that took over the royal bloodlines… These are the people and I mean, folks, if you study the Transylvanians where these legends came from with Dracula and all that stuff, drinking kids’ bloods and crown (sic), these people are friggin’ crazy. Everyone knew that if you were going to Transylvania, don’t take your kids … it is the place where kids are on the menu, they cook them, put them in stews – you can’t make this stuff up… {florid fiction; in context, ‘you can’t make this stuff up’ is hilarious.}

“Saudi Arabia, giant pedophile base, you got Transylvania as a pedophile base…

32:33… “the main thing is they rape babies and slit their throats when they orgasm {insanity-like fabrication}. then they take the horror of the raped babies, you know, all its hormones, and they put in a big glass then they drink it {insanity-like fabrication}.

33:30 “There is a permissive atmosphere for pedophilia and child sacrifice – that’s what an abortion is. If you had an abortion, you got lied to.

“I probably paid for more abortions than you can count on both hands before I was 25 and then I realized it was murder and stopped doing it {his own offspring?}

38:00 …“They’ve got the TSA (= Transportation Security Administration) under orders, groping your kids, which they know is grooming {except that there’s already been an underwear bomber on a plane, and Qaeda/ISIS/Boko gladly use kids as death mules if they aren’t blocked; anyone wanting to avoid hand search can go through the scanner.}

… and they’re teaching your kindergartener about same-sex marriage – that’s sexualization of children {why would knowing about same-sex marriage sexualize children more than knowing about opposite-sex marriage does?}

38:30 – “I’m going to wire him (Craig Sawyer) $100,000 — We’re going to raise Craig 10 million dollars … we’re praying for God’s providence … (long ‘give me the strength’ prayer) {follow the money; notwithstanding pleas of selfless sacrifice and invocation of deity. Sawyer has no authentic visual documentation of his ‘kids in cages’ fantasy, but with enough money and his special-effects skills and contacts, he could undoubtedly cook up something looking pretty realistic.}

40:42 “Go into the real dungeons, notice, you show, here’s the key to everything totally proving this – hundreds of articles out the last month on 3000 arrests, 100+ in Pennsylvania, 100 in FL, hundreds in NY, hundreds in CA, hundreds in NE, hundreds in IL, you go and you look at it, and this is caught kids in the cages {fabrication, followed by the most insane demagoguic jag on the internet à}, in dungeons that are like whorehouses but kidnapped kids with pedos lined up all day to dump their disease into these kids, and wreck their minds and their souls and splinter their hearts and if you pay any more, you get to kill a baby … that’s what Craig says, the law enforcement goes in and there’s like frickin’ barrels of kids they haven’t put in acid yet … it’s just like, these people are like, they’ve never seen anything like it … industrial Satanism. ..we’re talking about kids strapped in, tops of their heads cut off, devil worshippers in their brains. …. ‘blaaaa we’re going to kill your kids, we have will of our God Satan…’”

“Anything they’re covering (mainstream media), you know that’s fake” {recap of the excuse for backing down on Comet}

“You got all these other world leaders kissing kids, running these foster homes where they get caught abusing kids like Savile and Prince Charles” {any crimes attributed to Savile don’t transfer to Charles by occasional association}

49:00 (Jones claims to have been invited to have sex with kids in grottoes in the Hellfire Club, Oxford)

50:00 (Jones claims to have fled Hollywood parties because big stars – not named – were pointed out as pedophiles by someone who then told him, “when the trucks come in you don’t want to know what happens.”) {requires believing in truckloads of missing children who are never missed by anyone, involved in events that no one ever leaks info about even when paparazzi-hounded celebs are involved}

“I’ve studied this weekend like 10 hours last night and today literally how they do it in England once a police chief catches them, they find a dungeon, they find dead kids, they declare national security… they’ll then spike a file with somebody innocent, the news will focus on the innocent group, and they’ll say “oh my God the police have to apologize ‘cause there’s an innocent person involved.” {all fabrication} And then I went wow, now I’m learning about this here in America and how they do this. It’s, it’s truly incredible.

“We can’t get upset about what MSM (= mainstream media) does, they just put out disinfo all day, they’re just a sorry lot of sell-outs who’ll do whatever they’re told. {discredit reality checks and your fantasies can take over the market; follow the money}

“Can you imagine the footage of kids in cages? That’s where they were in California, just in this raid {untrue}. We know people ON the raids {sure you do}. Can you imagine them pulling two-year-old skeletons out of acid that aren’t fully dissolved yet? {there’s no matching reality for this figment of imagination} It’s game over, folks – we are inches away from game over right now. {always a bridesmaid, never a bride}

54:12 “You’ve got George Soros {interesting change of topic}, a Nazi collaborator who helped round up Jews, then they call me anti-Semite because he’s Jewish when I call him a Nazi … the ADL (= Anti-Defamation League) .. I don’t even hate ‘em, I just think “thank God I’m not those people.” {Wiki: When Soros was 13 in 1944, the Nazi-organized Judenrat “asked the little kids to hand out the deportation notices … I was given these small slips of paper…. I took this piece of paper to my father. He instantly recognized it. This was a list of Hungarian Jewish lawyers. He said, “You deliver the slips of paper and tell the people that if they report they will be deported.” – That’s not collaboration, it’s sabotage – BN.}

“Law enforcement isn’t perfect; but the globalists give law enforcement missions that are unconstitutional and then they demonize them in the media to make their main enemy the scapegoat, because that’s who they actually fear, that’s why they want robots and automation and gutless things to be in control because they’re going to have to get rid of strong men who are good, bad and ugly, to enforce for their little pot-bellied pedophile world, their little vampiric uuh buh, pedophiles are just a gateway, folks, they’re the gateway drug. It’s Satanism, it’s child sacrifice, it’s all there, but they always say it’s a hoax, it doesn’t exist, knowing you don’t want to admit it exists because you’re a good person and can’t believe that’s happening even though it’s confirmed. {confirmed as fiction, that is}

“So pedophilia and satanism do exist – it’s exploding. The Democrat elite and the Republican elite are big parts of it.

1:12:27 “It’s, it’s about victory … We can’t just sort of live and not go after them. Will there ever not be pedophiles? No, but they’re going to be hiding out folks in places like Transylvania. That’s famous for it {pure fantasy}. That’s why the legends come from there. We’re going – we’re going to push them back beyond the shadows; we’re going to push them back into the ratholes and right into hell. And where it’s going to be incredibly rare – not Salon saying how great it is {never happened}, and a major clothing line saying how great it is and you know all this crap they’re pushing, we’re going to break them entirely, you know, with God’s help.

“The UN officially has a man-boy love association, NAMBLA {the long dormant NAMBLA has never been associated with the U.N.; in fact, in the late 1980s, when it was still active, it was specifically excluded from proxy association via LGBT umbrella organizations – see its Wikipedia}, saying they want to legalize pedophilia, you know. they’ve got bills introduced there to legalize it {fabrication}. It’s happening, they’re sexualizing our children in the schools, they’re saying our kids belong to them… {fearmongering}

It’s not a power trip, it’s the opposite … I’m so grounded now [clasps teary eyes] and so close to God that it horrifies me … to imagine .. what it’s like to be the people that are so grounded to Satan and what they’re involved in… I tell you, that terrifies me in God’s presence… now God is removing the humility and I’m getting jacked in to the high voltage.”

[end quote]

Hallelujones.

As you can see in the above, Jones is re-using an ancient ploy: he’s revising the traditional anti-Semitic ‘blood libel’ about Jews ritually sacrificing Christian babies, but painting fantasy elite pedophile heads over top of the ancient Jewish heads in his depictions. Every century there are ranting bigots like Jones, and the only thing remarkable about him is that he’s found a way to modernize the blood-libel game by changing its target. As in the case of many ‘lone wolf’ terrorists, it’s very hard to discern the ratio of mental illness to sane criminal malevolence in this program. The Jones videos have hundreds of thousands of viewers, and they generally turn into extended infomercials for various survival and health potions sold by his Infowars online store, but to what extent can you have ‘crazy like a fox’ without at least some underlying crazy?

Possibly the various political pitches seen in Jones’s stuff, like the slags against Soros and the focus on attacking ‘globalism,’ yield some clues, and the material I’ll bring forth below may help to clarify this. The most interesting question is: what could have got a formerly respectable soldier and movie effects hotshot like Craig Sawyer involved in this grotesque fibfest? Why is he supplying his name as credibility for the impossible – the raids that are repeatedly authorized by judges, and arrests made by law enforcement, that are never followed up on by the same police and judges, and where the types of crimes alleged (‘kids in cages, skeletons in acid’) have never been evidenced and require believing in vast numbers of victims corresponding to no known missing people? Why tell a lie that’s so easy to see as a lie?

Perhaps a partial answer may be found in the word ‘pedophile’ as a mind-closer – anything bad said about such people, false or true, must be good and can’t be closely questioned by anyone, for fear of being called a ‘pedophile sympathizer.’ And the non-offending pedophiles like Todd Nickerson are by no means numerous enough to mount an overwhelming defense of the reality they defend.

As you know from the introduction to this article, though, I think there’s more to it than that.

Craig Sawyer is not just someone reporting information to Alex Jones. He’s a typical Pizzagate/Pedogater sharing all of Jones’s passions, even the revilement and conspiracy-indictment of George Soros.

[quote]

9 Jun 2017. @CraigRSawyer. MSM deceit fully unveiled: Entire ‘Russia’ mantra revealed false! Never forget who lied so passionately! CNN, NYTimes etc #Liars4Soros

[end quote]

In general, he shares the common focus of Pizzagaters on denial of Russian influence in the 2016 election.

[quote]

@CraigRSawyer Shame, discredit and dishonor upon ALL who uttered the words “Russia Collusion” in that NOW DISPROVEN false… (Video from ‘truthfeed.com’ titled ‘Chris Matthews admits Trump-Russia Collusion Theory has Fallen Apart’ http://truthfeed.com/video-chris-matthews-admits-trump-russia-collusion-theory-has-fallen-apart/79965/)

17 May 2017. @AP (Associated Press): “Breaking: Justice Dept. appoints former FBI head Robert Mueller to oversee probe into Trump-Russian connection in 2016 election.” Craig Sawyer response tweet: “Good! Now we can finally put this ‘Russia’ BS to bed.”

[end quote]

I’m not suggesting we jump to any instant conclusions about this. Let’s look at some parallel cases. Besides David Seaman, mentioned above, there are other core Pizzagaters who have a lot to say about the innocence of Russia.

For example, there’s Liz Crokin. Liz is a journalist with political interests who worked on a George Bush campaign and interned at the State Department before moving on full-time reporting, first in crime and politics in Chicago and then as a celebrity chaser for Us Magazine Weekly and the National Enquirer, among others, in Los Angeles. In 2012, she became drastically ill with viral meningitis that turned out to be caused by the genital type of the herpes virus (HSV-2) and accused her much older boyfriend, Orange County businessman Mallory Hill, of infecting her. Her revenge came partly in the form of a lawsuit, in which she accused Hill of committing battery by knowingly infecting her. The Daily Mail in the UK found the lawsuit scandalous enough to write up, and said “She claims that Hill’s act amounted to battery because the STD left her permanently brain-damaged after it led to her being hospitalized with viral meningitis.”

(http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-4095194/Explosive-legal-battle-author-accuses-rich-ex-infecting-life-threatening-STD-claims-wrote-smear-novel-calling-child-abuser-rapist-sex-addict.html)

Part B of her revenge was writing a thinly disguised novel called ‘Malice’ about a woman who had similar problems with a man who turned out to be, as the Mail puts it, “a child abuser, rapist and sex addict.” In defending himself, Hill, according to the Mail, “says (Crokin) invaded his privacy and smeared his reputation in interviews promoting her novel Malice, as well as in the book itself. He flatly denies having infected her with the STD.” In court documents, “Hill accuses Crokin of telling ‘vulgar and scathing lies’ in the book.” Crokin, meanwhile stated that her brain-damage “and subsequent post-traumatic stress disorder could have been avoided altogether if Hill had confessed to having herpes when their relationship began.”

Amazon reviews on the book are divided into those loving every salacious tabloidy minute, and those like that of Jennifer Henrichs (Sept. 25, 2015): “This book was complete crap. We chose it for our book club and not one person finished it. I read another review that said ‘House of Cards meets 50 Shades of Grey’ but it was a far cry from either. It’s supposed to be based on a true story and I can’t believe the author would publish an explicit book about her trashy life and be proud of that.” Jennifer may have to expand her disbelief, in that Crokin claims to have two sequels planned.

Liz, today, is for all practical purposes a full-time Pizzagater, constantly tweeting, writing articles and doing interviews, both as host and as guest, about hypothetical satan-worshipping pedophiles in high places and – her other favorite topic – about the need to stop accusing Russia of any wrongdoing.

She says, in tweets, “The left and the MSM has pushed the Russia conspiracy to distract from these REAL stories: #Pedogate {the internationalized concept of Pizzagate, Satanic pedo-elites everywhere}, #SethRich {case of an alleged whistleblower who was murdered mysteriously}, #ObamaGate {miscellaneous accusations including blame for the Russia collusion idea};” “The Russia lie undermines our democracy, the will of the People & our Constitution … #SessionHearing” (Jun 13); “Warning: The Media Matters Twitter BOTS are working overtime to maintain the left’s Russia fantasy” (Jun 13); “Putin has been more honest to the American people than our own leaders! But the media censors him b/c he tells the truth (16 Sept 2016); “Putin is right! Putin = anti-NWO (= New World Order) pedos, Trump = anti-NWO pedos, Putin + Trump = end of elite pedos… Get it yet!?”

In one of her columns in the alt-right forum townhall.com (https://townhall.com/columnists/lizcrokin/2017/03/05/trump-sex-trafficking–how-it-ties-to-russia-n2294220) she said,

[quote]

“It makes you really wonder, why would any decent media corporation censor stories exposing child rapists, or worse, cover up for them? Well, on Feb. 23, former Congressman Cynthia McKinney – who courageously addressed sex trafficking on the house floor in 2005 – shed some light on this topic. She tweeted this in a tweet with a video of Trump’s recent press conference on sex trafficking:

‘Forewarning: this brings down Dems and Repubs! He needs to go straight all the way because this goes to the top!…’

If McKinney’s statement is true, could the shadow government’s coup against Trump be tied to child sex trafficking? After all, both General Mike Flynn and his son were targeted after making public statements about sex trafficking. And if you look deeper, why is the shadow government using Russia as the scapegoat? When you listen to President Vladimir Putin’s speeches, like Trump, he’s a Christian, a nationalist, a staunch anti-globalist/NWO and an outspoken critic of pedophilia. During Putin’s 2016 Christmas speech {it was actually a speech from 2013; see below}, something you’ll never see in the MSM {because it actually happened years ago at a club meeting}, he spoke out against the New World Order {he didn’t mention a ‘New World Order’} agenda to promote pedophilia. He stated that Western culture is promoting that “faith in God is equal to faith in Satan”. Putin said this about pedophilia:

“The excesses and exaggerations of political correctness in these countries indeed leads to serious consideration for the legitimization of parties that promote the propaganda of pedophilia.” {official translation: “The excesses of political correctness have reached the point where people are seriously talking about registering political parties whose aim is to promote paedophilia.”}

These sentiments are very similar to statements Trump has made.

[end quote]

Russia, innocent, pure and up to no tricks, is merely being used as a distraction so that most Western politicians and celebs can swish their hands through the brains of kids whose heads have just been sawn open (as per Jones’ video, quoted above).

Russians appreciate and re-propagate her support. Liz is frequently linked on Russian or other Putin-loving media such as therussophile.org and dobroyeutro.ru (‘dobroye utro’ means ‘good morning’ in Russian; see https://www.therussophile.org/president-trump-zeros-in-on-elite-pedophiles.html/, http://dobroyeutro.ru/kategoriya/c1QtZzJsNjE3bDg/)

When it comes to Pizzagate, Liz is ultra-orthodox. She quotes ‘Jon Danger @RedPilledRebel’ as saying “Pedo-Satanist ringleader @johnpodesta hasn’t even attempted to explain the bizarre pizza references in his emails” (attached photos show the ‘pizza-related map’ and ‘better playing dominoes’ email lines, highlighted in yellow, as well as a banal email line about liking an unspecified hot dog stand in Hawaii; there’s also an unverified old tweet from the late far-right media owner Andrew Breitbart accusing John Podesta of being ‘slave op coverer-upper,’ and a picture of the Marina Abramovi? cut-finger ‘spirit cooking’ poem, quoted above.) In her own comment, Liz says ‘How could any rational person think this is normal?’

As we’ve seen, finding the normality in the emails isn’t hard, if you look. What kind of ‘spirit cooking’ is this supposedly hard-working journalistic researcher Liz doing by pretending otherwise?

There are dozens of others who make almost the same selection of statements that Liz makes, most notably the Hagmann brothers, Doug and Joe. This dogmatic duo constantly work with Liz, Mellisa Zaccaria, and other members of the core Pizzagate group inside and outside their Hagmann Report series of Youtubes and podcasts. They defend Russia frequently and often have their output cited or reproduced in Russian websites.

It’s time to cut to the chase and show how all this Pizzagate stuff really fits together. The key to it all lies in the speech Vlad Putin made in 2013, the one Liz quoted from above. I’m going to paste in a bit of the beginning and a key section from the middle.

https://www.rt.com/politics/official-word/putin-valdai-national-idea-142/

[quote]

‘It is impossible to move forward without spiritual, cultural and national self-determination’ – Vladimir Putin

Published time: 20 Sep, 2013 14:22

Russian President Vladimir Putin attending the tenth anniversary meeting of Valdai International Discussion Club in the Novgorod Region, September 19, 2013. (RIA Novosti/Sergey Guneev) /

Vladimir Putin spoke before the final plenary bmeeting of the Valdai International Discussion Club, outlining Russia’s urgent need for a united national idea in order to succeed in a global environment.

PRESIDENT OF RUSSIA VLADIMIR PUTIN: Good afternoon, friends, ladies and gentlemen,

I hope that the place for your discussions, for our meetings is well chosen and that the timing is good. We are in the centre of Russia – not a geographical centre, but a spiritual one. [Novgorod Region] is a cradle of Russian statehood. Our outstanding historians believe and have analysed how the elements of Russian statehood came together right here. This is in the light of the fact that two great rivers – the Volkhov and Neva – acted as natural means of communication, providing a natural linkage at the time. And it was here that Russian statehood gradually began to emerge.

As has already been pointed out, this year the [Valdai] club has brought together an unprecedented list of participants: more than 200 Russian and foreign politicians, public and spiritual leaders, philosophers and cultural figures, people with very different, original and sometimes opposing views.

You have already been conferring here for a few days now, and I’ll try not to bore you unduly. But nevertheless, I will allow myself to state my views on subjects that you have touched on during these discussions in one way or another. I am not only thinking about analysing Russian historical, cultural, and governance experiences. First and foremost, I am thinking of general debates, conversations about the future, strategies, and values, about the values underpinning our country’s development, how global processes will affect our national identity, what kind of twenty-first-century world we want to see, and what Russia, our country, can contribute to this world together with its partners.

We must be proud of our history, and we have things to be proud of. Our entire, uncensored history must be a part of Russian identity. Without recognising this, it is impossible to establish mutual trust and allow society to move forward.

Another serious challenge to Russia’s identity is linked to events taking place in the world. Here there are both foreign policy and moral aspects. We can see how many of the Euro-Atlantic countries are actually rejecting their roots, including the Christian values that constitute the basis of Western civilisation. They are denying moral principles and all traditional identities: national, cultural, religious and even sexual. They are implementing policies that equate large families with same-sex partnerships, belief in God with the belief in Satan.

The excesses of political correctness have reached the point where people are seriously talking about registering political parties whose aim is to promote paedophilia. People in many European countries are embarrassed or afraid to talk about their religious affiliations. Holidays are abolished or even called something different; their essence is hidden away, as is their moral foundation. And people are aggressively trying to export this model all over the world. I am convinced that this opens a direct path to degradation and primitivism, resulting in a profound demographic and moral crisis.

What else but the loss of the ability to self-reproduce could act as the greatest testimony of the moral crisis facing a human society? Today almost all developed nations are no longer able to reproduce themselves, even with the help of migration. Without the values embedded in Christianity and other world religions, without the standards of morality that have taken shape over millennia, people will inevitably lose their human dignity. We consider it natural and right to defend these values. One must respect every minority’s right to be different, but the rights of the majority must not be put into question.

[end quote]

Everything that you read in this Putin manifesto is a wonderful symphony to the ears of many supporters of Donald Trump. Russia and the right-of-center USA have, in different ways, striven to accomplish the same objective for a long time: maintain the dominance and prominence of the European-derived, unilingual Christendom or post-Christendom that constitutes the majority (Russian in one case, English in the other), while accommodating minorities who can live peacefully subordinated within this framework.

In contrast to militant white nationalists and anti-semites, the holders of this political viewpoint respect any ethnic or religious minority that stays in its place and cooperates. Here’s Vlad again:

[quote]

Over the past centuries in Russia, which some have tried to label as the “prison of nations”, not even the smallest ethnic group has disappeared. And they have retained not only their internal autonomy and cultural identity, but also their historical space. You know, I was interested to learn (I did not even know this) that in Soviet times [authorities] paid such careful attention to this that virtually every small ethnic group had its own print publication, support for its language, and for its national literature. We should bring back and take on board much of what has been done in this respect.

Along with this the different cultures in Russia have the unique experience of mutual influence, mutual enrichment and mutual respect. This multiculturalism and multi-ethnicity lives in our historical consciousness, in our spirit and in our historical makeup. Our state was built in the course of a millennium on this organic model.

Russia – as philosopher Konstantin Leontyev vividly put it – has always evolved in “blossoming complexity” as a state-civilisation, reinforced by the Russian people, Russian language, Russian culture, Russian Orthodox Church and the country’s other traditional religions. It is precisely the state-civilisation model that has shaped our state polity. It has always sought to flexibly accommodate the ethnic and religious specificity of particular territories, ensuring diversity in unity.

Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Judaism and other religions are an integral part of Russia’s identity, its historical heritage and the present-day lives of its citizens. The main task of the state, as enshrined in the Constitution, is to ensure equal rights for members of traditional religions and atheists, and the right to freedom of conscience for all citizens.

[end quote]

The last line might elicit a raspberry from the loyal Russians who belong to Putin’s political opposition, but its insincerity is, in a way, separate from the noble statement it makes in print. Trump fans in the Pizzagate stripe, who are mostly not virulently racist and who in some cases even oppose racism, find this speech inspiring.

In fact, one wonders if – apart from the occasional reference to a Russian philosopher – there is anything in this speech that Donald Trump would hesitate to say.

The question of collusion between the Putinist rhetoricians and Trump and his people may indeed be a red herring. There’s no need for collusion for these people to work together. They already belong to the same political party. The only difference that separates them is their differing geographic situations, along with the accompanying differences in military-strategic precautions.

The question for the Trump-Putin party then becomes “How are we going to knock down those people who want to give non-Russian/English foreigners far more social power in our lands, and who promote underclass sexual groups that might weaken the will of the dominants to put babies as a priority? What can we do, without resorting to overt racist schism, so that we don’t become swamped in a sea of Others?”

A very Machiavellian answer to that is “Let’s say that all the leaders and cultural forces we don’t like are secretly raping and killing babies and having orgasms while they bleed.”

We may never know whether DumbScribblyUnctious was Russian, American, or other. In the movement he or she started, the Russian and American priorities of the Trump-Putin party combined together. I suspect that perhaps half the people posting about Pizzagate and Pedogate are Americans, while the other half are sock accounts of a modest number of Russians who have a paid full-time occupation cheerleading, reinforcing, and providing new ideas and praise. They are at cyberwar not with the US, but with the Democratic Party, its values, and whoever comes too close to it. Their usernames are full of eagles, God, Texas and so on. If one of the unquestioned American players makes a tweet that omits the Russia angle, there is always someone there in the audience to make sure it gets included. Liz Crokin no sooner says “Jeffrey Sessions is saving kids from pedos while the left is creating a circus to stop him from ending sex trafficking” (13 Jun 2017) when along comes Eagle_Eye1776 (so patriotic!) to reply with “political liberals pedophile sex networked (sic) covered up by fake Russia investigation.” The top American Pizzagaters, meanwhile, are mostly show-biz people living in the economic wobbliness of Youtube pay-per-play and Patreon support (many Pizzagaters have donation links in place and regularly encourage use). Who knows if some of the more fervent ones, like Crokin and the Hagmanns, may not have made some arrangements to increase their donations by taking money from real Putinist intermediaries, in exchange for publicity about foreign-derived hot button concepts like ‘Soros is the enemy’? They don’t need to betray their own principles to do so.

In any case, the objective here is to utterly destroy the lefty people who are against Trump, Putin, pre-1965 Western values, the real meaning of Christmas, white babies as a top social duty, and shocked rejection of art glorying in diverse sexuality or gory, visceral navel-gazing. Any fabrications that need to be made to create this hammer of doom are just fine. Something is needed to smash the Democrats, the non-Trump Republicans and the degenerate, Democrat-supporting Hollywooders and pop stars out of history forever. The campaign against Hillary will never be over, you could say, until she’s indicted on Trumped-up charges.

Primitive, bawling blood libel is great for the unhinged wingy-dings like Alex Jones, while the moderates can stick to finding Satanism in a grandpa’s emails about playing dominoes with his grandchildren. It’s all about getting out there into the world of internet research and gathering more things to make innuendo about – discovery, revelation. Don’t bother to check the good material you already have – no one has time to read it and see that it falls apart. And if they do, no one cares, because, you know, ‘destroy Hillary.’ Saving trad American culture and keeping the Russian naval base at Tartus, Syria, are branches of the same agenda: who are we to care if the Syrian psychopath who’s keeping the other Syrian psychopaths in check stays in power? Boo to George Soros who’s trying to open the Syrian floodgate with democracy! That culture has no place for democracy – so goes the unspoken party line – since it’s the history of Christendom, love your neighbor as yourself, that allows such an even-handed system. If you don’t call Obama a pedophile, you’ll eventually be swamped by Syrians, so get to it!

Pizzagate is, in my opinion, the great American-Russian cooperative project of our time. Perhaps military people like Craig Sawyer have become interested in it because it promises a future time of peaceful alignment between a moderately dictatorial, white-heavy but not terribly intolerant Russia, and a slightly less dictatorial but still heavily culturally censored, white-heavy, not horribly intolerant America. Just keep saying that the existing ‘deep state’ systems are secretly raping and slaughtering babies, and you can eventually create so much distrust in any sign or trace of liberality that the more far-reaching branches of cultural exploration – the blue-haired transgenders who cuss your cis-hood, the blacks who object to cops cautiously killing the dark people who frighten them, the people who say non-offending pedophiles who abuse no kids should be allowed to live and let live – can be crushed into the ground.

You’re off the hook, Mr. Trump – it’s not that you’re colluding with Russia.

In many, very important ways, you ARE Russia.

And so are your supporters.

….
The_Ganymede_Arena_SB_Archive

Mellisa Zaccaria: Pizza witchhunt @ Boston Pride…


The_Ganymede_Arena
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Date: June 06, 2017

01) Mellisa Zaccaria: Pizza witchhunt @ Boston Pride

Originally posted by Bernie Najarian on BoyChat, June 6th, 2017.

In one of the stranger convergences in LGBT history, a woman who has claimed to receive divine gun advice from America’s most virulent anti-Sodomite fundamentalist preacher is scheduled to lead a component of the June 10 Boston Pride march on behalf of a group of mostly far-right Pizzagate-Pedogate conspiracy theorists.

Mellisa Zaccaria is an ambitious, pink-haired, approximately 36-year-old assistant bar manager and consultant from Plaistow, New Hampshire. She lists herself online as the CEO of a bar management training company called MZFX Management LLC. In recent months, she has ‘found herself,’ in a big way, and has taken on a passionate second life as ‘The Honey Bee’ (@thehoneybee_ on Twitter), a campaigner – she is convinced – against hidden cabals of pedophiles who are raping and murdering children in tunnels and other hideouts while being protected by the U.S. government.

That’s the same U.S. government that prosecutes thousands every year for child pornography, sexual acts with minors, and erotic teen selfies, but never mind that. Conspiracies always offer separate worlds for the elites. That, at least, is the basic grist that feeds the squeaking mental mills of all conspiracy theorists.

The Pizzagate/Pedogate conspiracy theory popped up hot and strong around the time of the Trump election campaign, along with a wide range of Jewish, Masonic, Bilderberg and miscellaneous conspiracies. Its bizarre genesis, beginning with a reddit post on Nov. 4, 2016, was chronicled in articles debunking it in the Washington Post and the Snopes urban legend site (https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/pizzagate-taught-us-the-value-of-community/2017/04/19/92cae67c-23b0-11e7-bb9d-8cd6118e1409_story.html, http://www.snopes.com/pizzagate-conspiracy/).

Hillary Clinton emails released by Wikileaks as part of pre-election politicking contained references to fundraising events held at a hip pizzeria with pingpong tables called ‘Comet Pingpong’ in Washington, D.C. A Democratic organizer named John Podesta, who was once the White House Chief of Staff for Bill Clinton, organized the events with co-operation from the pizzeria owner, James Alefantis. Occasional occurrences of ‘cheese pizza’ and similar phrases in Comet-related and other Clinton campaign emails triggered conspiratorial minds to imagine that child pornography was being referred to. ‘Cheese pizza,’ since it could be abbreviated cp, had become a long-standing euphemism for child pornography on the click-on-the-wild-side website called 4chan, where simply posting a photo of a pizza slice could elicit a vigorous – though soon-deleted – thread hosting dozens of ostensible child porn photos. ‘Citizen researchers,’ excited by the oven-baked link to child porn, quickly piled onto all the social media of Alefantis and his workers and friends, including everyone who had liked the pizzeria’s Facebook page, and, before the owners could reset accounts to private, harvested images of children and scenes that struck them as potentially creepy. Particularly popular was a shot of a smiling girl of around five years old with her wrists lightly adhesive-taped to the surface of a pingpong table. What the joke was in this photo was never explained, but it clearly could look sinister if one wished it to. And how the conspiramongers did wish it to. Finally, they had a pepperoni-scented ‘smoking gun’ that they could use to get at the oblivious, self-grafting elite they perceived as running the American ‘deep state.’ The elite – they were now certain – were having pedophile parties coded as pizza parties, and doing macabre things to smiling little girls.

The reddit conspirator had also noticed that the Comet Pizza logo, which showed crossed pingpong paddles, was somewhat reminiscent of one of the ‘pedophile symbols’ the Federal Bureau of Investigation had posted a few years earlier – specifically, a ‘child lover’ logo showing a stylized butterfly made of two heart-shaped larger wings and two heart-shaped smaller ones. This clinched the matter. Put together cheese pizza and paddles arranged like a pedophile logo, and a pedophile den had surely been spotted. Pizzagate enthusiasts soon invented an entirely new food code, to be used in interpreting Clinton emails and Comet-related social media posts, where any mention of ‘hot dog’ equaled ‘boy,’ ‘sauce’ equaled ‘orgy,’ and so on. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K6vvx2rHid0, 11:45). An email sent to John Podesta inquiring about a ‘pizza-related’ map handkerchief that had been left behind by someone during a real estate visit (i.e., a souvenir city map printed on a handkerchief as a promotional for a pizzeria – I personally own two such items without the advertising link) led to the decryption of the word ‘map’ as a semen stain. The exact email phrase “the realtor found a handkerchief (I think it has a map that seems pizza-related)” could be translooned as ‘the realtor found a handkerchief bearing semen stains from a pedophilic event.’ You need to imagine that conscientious emails would be sent out about a found cum-rag.

Conspiracy buffs often attributed their food and stain code to the FBI even though it was likely mostly or entirely the invention of their fellow Pizzagators. Allegations that the list of codes had come from 4chan went unsubstantiated.

When another pizza business near Comet was found to have a logo that had been given designer pizzazz by making the basic pizza slice triangle bend around to spiral inside itself, the sex-hound hobbyists immediately recognized another pedophile logo – a spiral triangle with a hand-scrawled look that had been mooted on minor-attracted websites as the emblem of the LBL, the little-boy lover. From this, and the nearby presence of an NGO office dealing with Haitian orphans, a fiction about an elaborate network of connecting tunnels among the conspiring Washington locations was quickly drafted.

Another bright mind then decided James Alefantis was a précis of ‘J’aime les enfants’ – I love children – in French. That’s even though Alefantis can easily be traced as a common Greek surname, and James, who was indeed Greek-American, had the middle name Achilles. Alefantis was known to be a deviant – specifically a gay man – but even worse, both he and Podesta were modern art fans. James had previously co-owned a modern art gallery. In his pizzeria life, he had often put together in-house pizza parties for John’s lobbyist brother Tony Podesta, who liked to showcase his home décor featuring many pieces of provocative art, including paintings by Serbian artist Biljana ?ur?evic.

?ur?evic (pronounciation similar to Georgevich), as a survivor of a bloody civil war, had acquired a taste for depicting reality as gory and violent. Some of her paintings, as seen in a major art retrospective that was held in Haifa in 2009, showed things like half-naked soldiers with snarling Rottweilers tied to a rail, and a small, near-naked boy suspended with belts from the ceiling of a shower stall. Tony had a ?ur?evic in his living room showing two dead girls washed up in a marsh – something the artist had witnessed during the war – next to a larger painting showing living girls lying comfortably in a radiating circle among maple leaves scattered at the bottom of an empty, shallow, tiled pool. The crème de la crème, however, of the sinister art Tony Podesta sponsored, was an evening of performance art by another Serbian artist, Marina Abramovi?. Marina’s oeuvre included hosting people in empty rooms where they could help her spread pig’s blood and other bodily fluids, like breast milk, on the walls and floors in an endeavor she called ‘spirit cooking.’ They wrote slogans in blood like ‘with a sharp knife, cut deeply into the middle finger of your left hand. Eat the pain.’ She had published an art book containing some of this visceral quasi-haiku in 1996. The hands-on performance was supposed to induce a feeling of being at one with reality in all its danger and vulnerability, while containing its chaos with made-up ritual.

To the conspiracy theorists, this ‘spirit cooking’ was Satanism, pure and simple. It showed that the elite pedophiles must be taking part in the legendary ‘satanic ritual abuse,’ the subject of a major, painstakingly debunked moral-panic outbreak in the 1990s (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Satanic_ritual_abuse). None of the theorists were aware of the background noted by a tweeter from the Encyclopedia Dramatica Twitter account, possibly Serbian sysadmin Sibin Graši?. The person commented “It (spirit cooking) is called “Vlaska Magija” (Wallachian magic) in Serbia, where the #SpiritCooker woman is from.” Apparently Abramovi? had adapted a local tradition of the Vlach (diaspora Wallachian-Romanian) minority for her outrageous art form.

Mellisa Zaccaria was among the right-thinking Americans, perhaps unused to the history of grotesque modern art going back to Francis Bacon, who threw herself avidly into head-butting the horns of Satan that were showing through in Comet Pingpong and its weird hipster/art-nerd clientele. She did this in late 2016, when her Youtube channel, previously devoted to little-watched live songs by her alternative folk-rock band Manifest (http://www.ticketfly.com/event/244865-encrypted-manifest-animated-st-louis/), took a sudden turn to confronting government evildoers who were covering up elite pedophiles.

She believes she may be risking assassination for her needling of the elites, but states that she is prepared to “be a martyr for the children.”

“Cause I would rather die for those kids, I would rather be a martyr for those children, to further prove to the world that there is a huge conspiracy within our government. They are Satanic … and evil … and they do nasty, nasty things to children”

(https://twitter.com/TheHoneybee_/status/835544837013241856)

Looking through her postings, you soon see the evidence that her Christian fundamentalism didn’t mix well with the art tastes of Tony Podesta. In a video from Jan 12, 2017, after saying she thinks that enslaved children may be being used in CIA programs, she continues,

If they found where the children are being housed in the trafficking of the children…whether they are being raped whether they are being murdered – I believe it’s both – you look at the Kabbalistic aspects, you look at the spiritualistic aspects, you look at the spirit cooking (that) is part of Abramovi?’s game – and she is friends with a lot of the people that are allegedly involved in this situation – and it is very clear to me that there is a spiritual aspect to this. This is literally light vs. dark, it is only found out by prayer; if you pray, please pray.

(https://www.bitchute.com/video/fXIcg95a8mk/)

Aided by like-minded Youtubers like BadGuacamole, she found spiritual revelation in her new pursuit of artsy-fartsy evil. On Feb. 9, she published a cathartic Youtube titled “Divine Validation in Fighting #Pedogate” in which she announced that God had sent her signs that she was doing holy work in her pizza-related campaign. I’ve transcribed several pieces of her statements, including all the tropes (ums and ahs, loud dental tongue clicks) that she inserts to show she’s a real woman of the people rather than an elitist.

I have experienced some holy divine magic … I don’t need to believe – I KNOW that Christ is in my heart and I’m protected by him and guided by the Lord in doing what I’m doing …

(She begins by describing a day in which she used the phone and the internet to file FBI and Los Angeles Police Department reports on child pornography found on a website)

Later in the evening, a few of us were talking and we had sort of a holy experience, the three of us. My good friend was listening to me and BadGuacamole just kind of reliving experiences we’ve had, magical experiences, holy experiences, that brought us into the Lord and we invited Jesus Christ into our heart and how that all went down … and this friend of ours was struggling, he … needed to let that burden go and put it on the Lord and he decided to be saved last night … it was very beautiful. Right after our friend, he said the words … we went right to our Vidme (website) and this is what we found there (a newly appearing notification saying) “‘ChristIsReturning’ followed you.” It just goes to show you the power of the Lord, and it’s real…

The Vidme poster called ChristIsReturning also upvoted Mellisa’s comment about his video “Every Christian should own a weapon.” (https://vid.me/6rgE) The poster turned out to be a Baptist pastor called Steven Anderson, from Faithful Word Baptist Church in Phoenix, Arizona, who had posted a sermon on how Christ, just prior to the crucifixion, had told his followers to arm themselves. Anderson is most famous for his widely publicized June 2016 praise of the ISIS-sponsored Orlando gay club massacre for leaving “50 less pedophiles in the world.” (http://www.phoenixnewtimes.com/news/tempe-pastor-hails-orlando-massacre-for-leaving-50-less-pedophiles-in-this-world-video-8372346)

Mellisa continues

“I had been praying about purchasing a firearm. My prayer was answered after watching this video and I’m going to share with you what the Lord has told me.”

Her video clips in a segment of Anderson speaking: “Someone looked at this gun and said ‘that’s an abomination to Jesus. And you know, SODOMY’s an abomination, but THEY pointed at this gun.”

This stirring quotation clearly helped Mellisa make up her mind to get God’s leveler of all flesh into her household as soon as possible. Then, to further explain her night of magical assurance to her listeners, she went very deep. She had just had a potentially prophetic dream.

When I went to bed last night um I had a dream (tongue-click!) and it was pretty intense and I think it was a message from God and I’m going to share it with you right now. … I’ve had some pretty prophetic dreams in the past and I trust my dreams … I’m not a prophet but I am open to the word of God and I feel that, um, I’m given directions through my dreams sometimes. So after (click!) the dream started, I was at, like, a homestead in the woods and it was dark out and I was planning for a Hallowe’en party, and I was literally picking people off, um, and collecting peoples’ heads. Like no joke, it was very weird, I had two large bags, like trash bags, filled with heads of people, and, um, a few of the heads I had collected were of superhuman people, superheroes, and I remember I was kind of in a closet with these bags and my mom peeked in and she said ‘oh what are you doing?’ and I said, ‘oh, I’m just decorating for this Hallowe’en party,’ and you know a lot of this stuff I do, I don’t tell my mom because she’s gonna get nervous, you know, and as you know right now, I am sort of headhunting, I am exposing pedophiles in our government, and, uh, I am metaphorically collecting heads and exposing them, laying them out for my Hallowe’en party (click!) … so, um, people started arriving and the dream kind of faded off and I remember setting the table and having all the heads out … and then it was like later that night and it was my sister’s … homestead, um, and we (sigh) were kinda having quiet time down in the living room and I heard water dripping, so I went up to the loft in the bedroom and there was a big pitched ceiling with a gigantic skylight and it had sort of like, ah, Venetian blinds but they were pitched, so it was a little weird and the water was just pouring through this skylight and I was like, ‘I’ve got to fix this,’ so I was using this, um, trinket on the right side next to another window to, like, close the blind and close the window and it kept breaking and little pieces were flying off and I was really tryna like stop this and repair this leak that was happening … so finally, I actually figured it out and I stopped the leak! Now, it’s really interesting for me in my reoccurring dreams with water, I usually am overtaken by water and my sister is overtaken by water and this sort of dream motif has been going on since I was a young child, and, um, this is, I can say, the first dream that I’ve had that actually, I was able to control the water and control the leak, so to speak. I-I-I looked at it when I woke up and I asked my boyfriend and he’s really, really good at interpreting dreams in an objective kind of sense, um, he’s the one that actually told me that he thought the heads I was collecting were those people that I was exposing in the government, and the leak, you know, that is something that I never have been able to come to terms with is that fear, you know (click!), of not being able to make a difference or make a change and I think that was the Lord telling me he’s happy with what I’m doing and Jesus is with me and guiding me through this and (click!) I feel blessed … at first I thought it had to do with a seal being opened, one of the seals that are opened in Revelation … I don’t know … you guys tell me.”

The actual quote from the biblical book of Revelation that would suit her vision, my theological contacts tell me, is “Then from his mouth the serpent spewed water like a river, to overtake the woman and sweep her away with the torrent.” However, an alternate interpretation of Mellisa’s dream, still in a Christian context, would be that after she had held her death-focused pagan (Hallowe’en) ceremony with all her decapitated heads, she had ended the episode by shutting off the flow of the other potentially overwhelming type of spiritual water mentioned in the Bible, “If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water (John 4:10).” Mellisa’s fervent participation in a campaign to harass a random shop owner and his customers and their relatives may only have been possible if she shut the divine impulse out. My consultants advise her to consider that possibility. They may possibly, however, not be included among the ‘you guys’ Mellisa was appealing to.

Since Mellisa started her Pizzagate campaign, she has had ups and downs. She hit a major down when she ‘exposed’ a Brian Podesta, who she felt had sinister links – partly connected via his father Don Podesta – to lobby and security surveillance contractor groups like the National Endowment for Democracy, Stratfor, and Lockheed Martin. The last of these does a lot of surveillance work for the CIA. Unfortunately for her, this group of Podestas claimed to be completely unrelated to John and Tony, and were incensed to be smeared with conspiratorial pizza sauce. They threatened lawsuits and had many Twitter and Youtube accounts warned or locked, with demands to delete the slanderous material connecting them to Pizzagate. The divinely guided Zaccaria refused to admit she’d made an error, and railed, on videos sequestered on the tolerant bitchute.com site, that Podestas in general ‘compartmentalize’ themselves, just like the government does, so that the left hand of Podesta deliberately doesn’t know what the right hand of Podesta is doing. She hinted that they were probably all cousins.

(https://www.bitchute.com/video/dJ4TjAplXjU/ “Twitter Censorship of Podesta Family Ties – NCMEC, NED, Lockheed Martin, and Podesta Group – HoneyBee – The Truth” Feb 26, 2017)

After recovering from this easily rebuffed shock, she hit the jackpot. She discovered the group called ‘Heart Progress’ that I’ve written about previously – in my judgment, a garish troll group faking pedosexual advocacy in order to quick-start soft-conservative outrage against liberals. (https://www.boychat.org/messages/1495822.htm; https://justpaste.it/15vex). The appearance of a group displaying itself as attempting to convert the LGBT community, as well as Americans and the world, to the notion that consenting sexual love could and should be had at any age, provided Mellisa with a dramatic foil for associating all the other conspiracy targets with it or its objectives. In fact, she, at first, seldom attacked Heart Progress on its own. She contextualized it with attacks on John Podesta, and also with bolts at another favorite target, Steve Diamond’s ‘Our Love Frontier’ WordPress blog (ourlovefrontier.wordpress.com/).

She also mentioned, parenthetically, “boychats, which is another thing I’m trying to get reported.”

In one outstanding episode, a March 31, 2017 video called “MAP Defined Podesta Email and Handkerchief Signal” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24sQ45MD2_w), she used information from Diamond’s blog to place a new interpretation on the Podesta ‘map handkerchief.’ This was done after she’d begun the video stressing the importance of her cause by featuring a Heart Progress graphic suggesting girls worldwide should be married, if they wished, at the age of three or so as was allegedly done (though not really) in Islamic countries (image shown at https://justpaste.it/15vex).

From an article on the Our Love Frontier blog, Mellisa learned, to her shock and revelation, that ‘map’ could stand for ‘minor-attracted person.’ Suddenly, she KNEW the real meaning of the enigmatic handkerchief email. In fact, she had special inside knowledge about it, because she’d joined a group, some years ago, to protest being made seasonally homeless on the resort island of Martha’s Vineyard when homeowners would rent out their properties to summer visitors for thousands of dollars per week (http://www.mvtimes.com/2014/05/07/build-partnerships-with-builders/). John Podesta’s lost handkerchief had come about in a real estate visit connected to just such a prospective summer rental. I’ll let her explain her breathtaking and utterly slanderous conclusions, as heard on the “MAP defined” video. Understanding her attitude to people with enough money to rent the rooms she was once kicked out of is critical to understanding everything she does against the elites of the fantasy Pedogate.

These are people that can afford $10,000 a week to stay in an oceanfront property on Lake Tashmoo and this woman (owner’s representative Susan Sandler – BN) must have maybe shown an interest in some of this depravity of exploiting children, maybe a party where they’re spirit cooking, maybe – something.

Someone has left this handkerchief, I believe it to be John Podesta, I believe he left it for this woman, Susan Sandler, to let her know that he has the goods, that he can connect her with people, that maybe in the Cape he can provide that this sort of child exploitative service. I believe that John Podesta left this handkerchief for Susan Sandler to let her know that he has access and/or connections for this person – maybe not for her, but for clients that she deals with. She deals with VERY WEALTHY clients that may be interested in child sex parties, in child sex trafficking, child pornography, whatever. This is clear to me that John has left handkerchiefs before at other places. I think it has ‘a minor attracted person that seems child porn related’ – that’s how you would read this email…. This is kind of a new finding and I think it’s really important.

She then encourages her increasing mob of followers to pass this blithering associational nonsense on as far as they can before it gets banned. But John Podesta, unlike Brian Podesta, appears too overwhelmed or immovable to deal with such assaults.

As the weeks went by, Mellisa became ever more focused on Heart Progress as a lynchpin of her attack strategy. She started a website called ‘Our Children Matter’ (www.ourchildrenmatter.net) and cooked up a plan to save the gay community from ambitious pedosexuals who were trying to assimilate their agenda into LGBTQI+ legitimacy. In a Youtube from Apr. 25 called ‘Podesta Pizza Patriarch and Heart Progress,’ (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8r5D1gLZjvw), she called on people marching in the June Boston Pride parade in the LGBT community to march with ‘Our Children Matter’ as a matter of preference. “LGBT people do not want pedophiles involved in this movement…. March with us. LGBT is under attack, the American people are under attack, children are under attack.” She secured a place, apparently, in the parade order for her group, and set up a fundraising site to raise $1,500 for banners, pamphlets and other parade accessories (so far, $500 has come in). Some friends were found who offered to make a documentary about her efforts, including drone footage.

In the midst of this organizing, she was busy trying to find out who the Heart Progress cads were. I and my team had earlier tried to see if the original directors of Heart Progress, Ernst Steiner, Clive Martin and Dale Steinberg, were either genuine or discernibly pseudonymous, but hit a brick wall in all techniques, including image-searching on the handsome photos supplied by Steiner and others. I felt it important to do this search right away, as the group was set up with an open website allowing anyone taken in by the message to join. That would include any genuine exponents of no-holds-barred consensual pedosex who were adventurous enough to post their photos in a public forum. Mellisa carried on the same sort of search weeks later, and, at first, came up with the interesting fact that some of the names of Heart Progress members appeared to have been pilfered from sex offender registries. There was, for example, a Clive Martin Wall who was a known sex offender in the UK – though he usually went by Clive Wall and wasn’t of interest to me in my own search. With one photo, though, image-searching on google took her right to a photo of one of the more recent and more strident Heart Progress members, a man calling himself Daniel Gaither. Daniel had made typical Heart Progress outrage spurs with opinions like “my favorite part of a little boy is the anus by far and away. But for little girls, I’ve heard they don’t have a prostate but their anus can still be erogenous, although in a different way…so what do you think, sewage outlet or sexual organ, folks?” Incredibly, Daniel’s profile photo image-googled straight to an online profile of an identifiable individual. The person involved could easily have escaped implication by claiming the photo was stolen, but instead, while still posting under the pseudonym Daniel Gaither, threatened Mellisa with legal action for a post she’d made on one of the real name’s web pages. I am not including that name here, since the man’s relatives have been threatening lawsuits, and there’s no reason for our publications to join Mellisa in possible legal tie-ups. Nonetheless, it was pretty clear that she had bagged a genuine Heart Progress registrant, and there was additional confirmation later on. Of course, from the viewpoint of the hypothetical trolls I believe started the movement, such moments of authenticity, with consequences suffered by other people, would be perfect devices for keeping the momentum of outrage going.

Since being threatened by the family of her doxee, Mellisa has been fairly quiet on Youtube, and has put almost all of her energy into promoting her part in the Boston Pride march, which is coming right up.

The Our Children Matter website publicizing the march participation contains a typical extreme polemic designed to preach to the Pizzagate-converted. The message presumes that elites are holding masses of kidnapped children all over the US and can be persuaded to release them by public outrage.

In the fall of 2016 Wikileaks released the Podesta Emails that contained pedophile code talk- terms such as ‘pizza,’ ‘hot dogs’, ‘pasta’, ‘map’ and others used out of context and absolutely nonsensical considering the true meaning of these words- as it turns out these are known terms used by child pedophile/ child traffickers.

Unfortunately this is not an issue exclusive to Washington DC or this particular scandal- it’s far more expansive and global in nature. Our mission is simple- to end child trafficking and crimes against children and make our world safe for children again forever. We will achieve our goal as decent human beings united in an unrelenting campaign where EVERY DAY MATTERS- children are suffering and dying daily.

Terms Of Surrender (TOS)

1- Release ALL children to closest hospital

2- Surrender to authorities

3- Confess to your crimes

4- Beg for forgiveness

Thank you all for your ongoing support- we call upon all decent human beings- the time has come for us to stand shoulder to shoulder- by the millions- around the globe- and put an end to these crimes against children. It’s time to come out from behind your web cams and key boards and take to the streets in peaceful demonstrations.

Mellisa has further clarified her aspirations for the Boston Pride parade in a recent video interview by her principal collaborator in the march project, who calls himself Liberty Columnist. The video is titled “The HoneyBee and I Leading #OurChildrenMatter March in Boston!” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RbfY2zNGBos)

We’re also there, a big part of it, at the pride parade, which coincidentally fell on this day – we got ourselves in there because what we’re finding now is that the pedosexual advocacy groups – and that’s what they call themselves, pedosexual – they’re advocacy members that want to infiltrate and try to tag along with the LGBT community. Now that is such a big shoo-in to this event because if you know anything about the LGBT movement, they have been trying to get away from the stigma of pedophilia for 50-60 years. They don’t believe in child rape; this is not something that they want get behind. The fact that these advocacy groups are trying to infiltrate into the LGBT – it’s got to be stopped, we have to draw the line there. I have no problem with any consenting adult doing what they wish … and everyone should be accepted and be able to be free … but children need to be protected. If you lower the age of consent, they’re trying to get the vote, to emancipate at an earlier age – it’s just dangerous … There’s a lot of angry dads going to be a part of this march.

Mellisa notes that there will be 75,000 people attending, 340 groups participating, and a lot of media. There’ll be a media station and she anticipates that she’ll be able to get her group some mainstream coverage. The pedophilia she will oppose in those interactions will be the mainstream-journalist stereotype of the always-rapacious, always criminally devious lurking monster. She carefully shuns the idea that pedophilia doesn’t necessarily mean ‘child rape,’ and that there are many completely lawfully living pedophiles in the community who don’t espouse any such practice. There’s more to be said about her online interactions with non-offending pedophiles of various political stripes, but I’ll leave that aside for now. This piece is focused on her attempt to wedge her Podesta paranoias and her dramatic-foil opposition to the Heart Progress straw man into the LGBT community. She knows that what she’s doing has minimal relation to LGBT pride.

I’m really excited about the coverage hopefully that we’ll get and we’re going to be really STRONG, haha, being there, and it’s not going to be a happy event, it’s not something where we’re going to go there proclaiming happiness and pride on the level of the LGBT, how they look at this event. It’s going to be more – I don’t want to say ‘militant’ in a negative way – but we’re there to draw a line for them, but we’re also there for the kids too.”

“We’re there to draw a line for them.” The conspiracy theory morals squad wants to make sure its concept of order is maintained among the gay.

As for ‘the kids,’ by the way, she herself has none.

This is how a woman who claims to get divine guidance about gun ownership from a preacher who rejoices to see gay men mass-murdered is making her move, and the move of her temporarily insane moral panic movement, into the limelight of the LGBT Pride parade. Will Boston be the place where the far right manages to make serious inroads into the perennially liberal LGBT community and turn some of its members into paranoid rightists? Will straw-man pedosexual advocacy groups organized by lulzing trolls drive the LGBT into the frogpond of perennial Trumpdom? Already, pressure from the tension between acceptance of Muslims and traditional Islamic homophobia is driving some gays rightward – witness Milo Yiannopoulos and his remote Dutch predecessor, assassinated presidential candidate Pim Fortuyn.

If Mellisa and her ‘based’ cohort of conspiracy theorists can convert significant numbers of LGBT people to associational paranoia, false accusation, and incorrigible rumor-mongering, based on fiction-pumped fear of pedophilia and alienation from the affluent, then, in a few years, there won’t be much basis left for the quality that the Boston parade is named for:

Pride.

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The_Ganymede_Arena_SB_Archive

Trollology – a basic course by Kamil Beylant…


The_Ganymede_Arena
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Date: May 17, 2017

01) Trollology – a basic course. Kamil Beylant


Trollology – a basic course by Kamil Beylant

Schoolyards have bullies; sports teams and military units have hazing devotees and towel snappers. One of the great recreations of humankind is tormenting other humankind. Thus, the internet, with its partial veil of anonymity, has trolls, many trolls, many kinds of trolls. Trolls are mean, nasty. Their currency is sadistic glee, known on the internet as ‘lulz.’ Some are apolitical and do the work purely for the joy of daily torment; their glee can be deposited in the psychological bank as a feeling of superiority. Others do it partly for political purposes, trying to move their superiority beyond the mental plane, and making a concerted effort to move inconvenient people and their priorities out of the way. Trolls terrorize the gullible and the easily offended; sometimes, they manifest on the ground to shout at houses and throw things, but usually, they sit alone and type. They are a psy-op, a malicious military, a thoughtcrime Mafia – yet, they are mostly passive consumers of fantasy, and their troll life gives them their principal sense of being in control. To be a troll is to be a warrior, laying waste to the vulnerable while receiving only bleats, swearwords and account suspensions as personal injuries.

The powerlessness of trolls in reality has caused them to discover the two tools that allow them to cause real mayhem in the lives of others. The first and weaker of the two is schoolyard atavism – they and their targets are adults, but by hurling the insults and sly challenges pioneered by the schoolyard bully, they remind the target that he or she was ineffective against bullies as a child. This humiliation lives on into adult life.

The second and stronger of the two tools is witchcraft. Trolls use all four of the major kinds of spin shock involved in effective, purely psychological cursing (no spirits needed): downspun prediction for the targets (“your group will lose out”), upspun prediction for their own imaginary group (“we superiors will overwhelm you”), downspun characterization for the targets (“you’re a tramp no one cares about”) and upspun characterization for themselves (“I have intelligence you can’t dream of”). Also, like all negative shamans, trolls collect ‘dirt’ against their targets. Traditional cursers try to collect fingernail clippings or hair to link long-distance curses psychologically to their targets, perhaps even making the proverbial voodoo dolls with the target’s ‘dirt’ stuffed inside. Modern trolls look for ‘dirt’ in the form of moments of embarrassment that can then be relentlessly used to unnerve the target (“you fainted on the campaign bus and that shows you’re too weak and old to be elected.”) Ultimately, trolls seek symbols of the target’s weakness and use these symbols as a sort of tenderizing enzyme to soften the targets for attack.

It’s no accident that political bullying of minorities begins as false accusations and culminates as a witch-hunt, where the targets eventually receive real (though materially false) allegations of supernatural misdoings. Trolling is social witchcraft, and its spin techniques include projecting its own clouding of reality onto its targets.

Based on Twitter experience, I’ve noticed that there are 15 clichés that serve as the building blocks of almost all trolling online today. Many of these clichés have ancient pedigrees and exist in all schoolyard bullying and bad politics. I am not going to say much about the historical aspects. I will mainly list the troll clichés as they’re seen online.

1. The scorn laugh, the basic kookaburra call of sadistic glee. In print, it’s seen as bwahahahaha, muahahahaha or just hahahahahaha.

2. The troll death curse, or its lesser form, the mutilation curse: “I hope you die of cancer,” “If I ever see you, you’ll find my shotgun barrel in your mouth,” “I would gladly cut your eyes out,” etc. Targets often find these troll curses the most intimidating of all the abuse tools they experience, imagining that many of them are real death threats. In fact, one in a thousand may have a flicker of realistic intention behind it, and one in ten thousand may be genuine, but most are pure armchair terrorism and only express the sadistic enjoyment of imaginary domination.

3. The grotty curse, or its lesser form, the imaginary sexual humiliation. This is intimidation through themes that are gross and disgusting. “I bet you beg your wife to poo all over you,” “why don’t you stick your tiny dick in an electrical socket,” “Here’s a pic of what you’d look like if I crushed your head so that blood ran out of your eye holes.” Some trolls specialize in pictorial grottycurse and have massive collections of disgusting memes, just as deathcurse fans may have vast libraries of gun, torture and death symbol photos. The sky’s the limit, imagination-wise, for grottycursers: a woman named ‘tennesseemommer’ commented about one tweeter, ‘Fucker! I could easily chop off his dick, dip it in gas, stick it in his mouth, and play Russian roulette with matches.’ Luckily she had no matching movie of a Brazilian mob doing such a thing to a real victim. (Brazil, for whatever reason, is a regular source of grotty mob footage.)

4. Suicide-baiting, the “kill yourself” cliché. The staple of today’s schoolyard, this is also ubiquitous on the internet, often coming from young or not-very-bright people. The internetters who use it are also likely to write ‘your an idiot’ and other signs of neural slackness. Tens of thousands of people every day on the internet are advised to “kill urself,” or the like.

5. Dehumanization. The long-time favorite of people trying to harass different ethnic groups. “They’re animals.” “You are slime and you belong in the scum.” “Degenerate filth.” “I don’t consider your kind human.” “You’re nothing but a pig.” “Crawl back under the rock you slithered from.” The word ‘degenerate’ has a particular political niche to imply the sapping of militaristic strength, either through being in a stigmatized minority group or through overly exploratory enjoyment or visceral creativity. This word echoes back and forth between fascistic types and conservative religions as a favored dehumanization motif.

6. ‘Crying’ or its lesser form, ‘getting emotional’ or ‘losing your temper.’ As I was told by the great UK master-troll ‘Joker,’ whom I dubbed Samir al-Campaigny (his real name was reputed to be Samir), “waaaa waaaa poor victim Kamil.” The essence of the ‘crying’ cliché is that the troll is in control of him/herself, while the target has lost self-control. Trolling is a power game and to spin the target as weak is the essence of the game. The curse aspect of troll witchcraft is that, if the troll thus makes the target feel weak and daunted, the mischievous assertion has made itself real. Part of the ‘crying’ cliché is to represent all social complaints by minorities as ‘crying.’ If your group has disproportionately few job opportunities and you complain, that’s crying. If your sexual orientation is afflicted by haters and you draw attention to that, that’s crying. The stigmatized person is always out of control, and thus, by nature, is intended to be ruled by the controlling troll. Lulz.

7. The reiteration cliché. Trolls believe that persistence pays off. Their task is to out-obnoxious the target, and part of that process consists in coming back again and again with the same obnoxious assertion. The apex of this technique is what the Nazis called the ‘Big Lie,’ but there are less organized versions that merely hammer stupidly at the same theme. Some trolls will compose a false accusation like “X was involved in catching children to be raped by Edward Heath and thrown off his yacht into the sea” and simply repeat it constantly, no matter how ridiculous it is. If other trolls delight in it, and especially if some gullible non-trolls buy into it, it climbs in the trolling hit parade and may become a widely ‘believed’ piece of false news, even though those who consistently believe in it know full well it’s not a likely story. Since I, in my own account, speak out for ‘virtuous’ pedophiles who don’t break the law or exploit kids, I get many trolls who simply flip off any discussion and come back with ‘you support child rape and child porn’ or ‘you’re trying to normalize pedophilia and eliminate the age of consent.’ No explanation or evidence will dissuade the reiterators from coming back again with exactly the same false accusation. Preposterous historic assertions like ‘Jews want to kill Christian babies and make matzoh with their blood’ exist mainly as reiteration tropes.

8. The boredom cliché. This is a very simple one: the troll will say you’re boring him/her, or will type about yawning or send an image. This is closely related to the next cliché.

9. The isolation cliché. The troll will insist that his/her viewpoint is absolutely the voice of the public and the target’s position is scorned or ignored by everyone. To quote Samir al-Campaigny, “How deluded are you? Wake up. No one will care if someone beat you to death.” Here’s a more political version from Carrie Vogel: “And if you think that my opinion is in the minority, THINK AGAIN. Across the political parties, we all think (this stigmatized group) should be eliminated.” She meant, killed en masse in concentration camps regardless of legal innocence, and for trolling purposes, in her spin-view, every U.S. political party was happy with that idea. Trolls, in general, relentlessly pretend either to be the voice of the public in general, or to be part of an irresistibly upsurging movement. A pose of inevitability is part of the ‘upspun prediction’ witchcraft device, while a troll pose near-universal acclaim is an upspun characterization curse levied at the target. In reality, the viewpoints initiated by minorities often have a good foothold in public life and may even attain broad acceptance. Many social movements representing themselves as inevitable victors soon taper off and fall away.

10. The troll version of nuclear warfare, at least in the minds of trolls themselves, is the cuss word cliché. “Sick fuck,” “you fucker,” and, in the U.K., the popular “you cunt” are just the beginning of at least 50 ways of re-ordering the same half-dozen naughty words that are thought to blow gaping holes in the sensitive minds of targets. It’s never occurred to trolls that most of their targets were teenagers, and heard and probably said a lot of this vocabulary. A relatively mild example I collected from the English troll ‘Sandy’ (labrahuggables) goes “Oh dear, does the word shit offend you? Fuck you idiot weirdo motherfucker.” Sandy then moves on, in the same tweet, to the dehumanizing and crying clichés with “Now go cry in the gutter you crawled out of.” Incidentally, the username labrahuggables reveals an interesting feature of trolls – nearly all of them humanize their images with relentless doting on cute animals. They may mix up cuss-laden trolling with rescue dog notices from shelters. We owe J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series, a great debt for including the villain Dolores Umbridge, a sinister, backstabbing, evil, sweet-talking female administrator who lived in a house full of cuteness and doilies. Bang on. Trolls hug Labradors and kitties one minute, then tell some celeb to fuck off and kill themself in the next minute.

11. Schoolyard trolling cliché. This is a grab bag that includes every schoolyard taunt that hasn’t been given a more specific category. An Anonymous member tried to get under my skin with ‘urabitch Kamil, urabitch,’ tweeted multiple times. Think back to all the primary school jeers that ever irked you, and you have a repertoire that’s used with delight by neckbeard trolls in their 20s and equally avidly by bleach-blond dental technician Trump trolls in their 50s. A variation on schoolyard trolling is complete contradiction: for example, the target says “I hate communism” and the troll then comes back with “so you say you love communism.” This troll cliché has a mental age of 3, but it still gets use.

12. Though you might put it under grottycurse, I think that the rape curse requires a separate listing. The target is usually a woman and, once she says something that sounds assertive, she is swarmed by male trolls, and female trolls posing as male trolls, who announce in various ways that they wish that she be raped. In the reverse position, with female trolls assaulting a male, there is often a threat of penis mutilation – but this theoretically entirely visible genital act lacks the witchy-hidden internalized black magic of the rape threat. For horror, there’s just nothing else equivalent to something that gets forced inside your body cavity while pinging on your intimacy nerves. Trolls love horror, so they gravitate to this trope with glee. There are storytelling variations. I collected one man, talking to feminists, who said to feminist A, “I’m inviting you to watch me manhandle feminist B then fuck feminist C in front of you.” The troll was in India and the targets in the US, so this scenario seemed fanciful; nonetheless, feminist C came back with “Are you threatening to rape me?” Males are seldom directly threatened with rape by trolls, but one image that holds a dominant place in the minds of most English-speaking trolls, male and female, is the American stereotype of the massive black ‘Bubba’ who rapes other men in prison. At times, I see so much of him that I think Bubba is actually America’s favorite fictional character. A massive number of Americans – who knows what proportion? – don’t abhor torture by any means – they merely want it done by a proxy, a bad guy, and preferably a colored guy, to maximize the Americo-horror. Someone should do a poll on this. Exactly what Bubba will do to the target is sometimes laid out in lulzful grottycurse detail, complete with the image of the target never again regaining control of his rectal opening. However colorful the male version is, it doesn’t drive people off the internet, but the female rapecurse troll cliché has eliminated many famous and not-so-famous women from online life, a.k.a., the trollosphere.

13. Everyone knows a few ethnic stereotype images, like the hook-nosed, bearded Jew avariciously clutching his fingers. These traditional tropes still have a life in contemporary trolling, especially since the ‘white nationalist’ patch of the American alt-right has hauled the bearded Jewnose back from history’s garbage dump. I have a troll flashcard meme for this one that says “Stereotype phrenology is one of the wilder troll tropes – the person spins ordinary individuals as ineffably weirdly formed.” Inserted is a tweet from someone referring to the famous non-offending pedophile Todd Nickerson, who was featured in some articles in Salon, and saying, “my god, he even looks like a stereotype of a pedo.” In actual fact, any male face other than that of a skinny teen or beautiful 20s twink will meet the troll standard of “looking just like a creepy pedo.” Any face of a middle-aged male is a dead ringer for the mysterious pedo look. Meanwhile, the alt-right is busy sifting through photos of celebrity women and deciding which ones look like secret Jews, so the phrenology troll cliché has diverse adherents. Phrenology itself was the pseudoscience that ascribed character traits to bumps and shapes that were part of the skull – modern phrenology trolls can look at nearly any head and find lurking horrors of disgusting minority influence infesting it.

14. The last two troll tropes are the brainiest of the lot, though each may be used by people who otherwise seem not very bright. A very common cliché is something I call the ‘smartdumb’ troll technique. To receive an intelligent response from a target places trolls at a disadvantage, and as they grope for some shaman’s ‘dart’ of weakness to spin into the target, they decide to call him or her stupid. Anyone using first year university vocabulary will be told he or she is using dictionary dinosaur words that no one can understand. He or she is mocked for being too pompous to see how stupid he or she is being by feigning intelligence. In the example I collected for meme use, the troll ‘Judge, Jury and Hexecutioner 404’ (note the elegant fusion of a pretense of complete control with the death curse and the frank admission of witchcraft) had made a dubious assertion, and I responded with “If you abstained from troll techniques, I’d give you the benefit of the doubt. Trolling counterindicates truth.” The hexecutioner saw spin potential in the vocabulary, and said, “Translation: I’m a deviant asshole that thinks I’m smarter than I am in reality.” His troll follower SecularScarlet then chimed in “He’s not the brightest tool in the box, is he?”, getting the reply “No, he isn’t.” Both the one-man jury and the two-person troll claque jury had outnumbered me and judged me stupid. Case closed, in troll spin world. Smartdumb trolling is very close to schoolyard trolling, but it specifically repeats itself much more frequently and recognizably than any single schoolyard theme. I think it deserves to be a cliché of its own.

15. Lastly, there is the official cliché of Troll University, and I’ve given it a suitably edumacated label – ‘entropic assertion’ trolling. Entropy is the process that reduces order to chaos. This cliché is a biggie. The basic idea of entropic assertion trolling is to spin out a pseudo-fact, or a true fact rooted out of context by bias, that can only be rebutted or placed in context by a massive research project on the part of the target. “Jews make up more than half of America’s sexual deviants,” says the troll, and when the target comes back with “That’s totally untrue,” the troll says “Document your statements with primary sources or shut up.” If the target then tries to reverse the challenge, the troll either produces a bigot screed from a hater website to ‘substantiate’ the ploy, or tells the target that the troll made the challenge first and the target must answer it first. My entropic assertion meme says “Send the trollee off to do weeks of spurious investigation with every silly comment.” The collected example was from a tinfoiled individual who tweeted me with “Here’s something to disprove. The Franklin scandal. CIA behind them all, I.E., FINDERS, DUTREAUX (sic). What else. De Muertes cartel? Mas?” Yes, my credibility could only be established if I could link an old (1988-91) and probably highly fictionally embellished American child sex scandal with the concept that the CIA was sponsoring Belgian serial child rapist/killer Marc Dutroux and an alleged human sacrifice conducted in Mexico by members of the Santa Muerte religious cult. You can see I had to fall for the bait to some extent even to write this paragraph. The final word ‘mas?’ is Spanish for ‘more?’ As that word suggests, the extent to which entropic assertion trolls can usurp your time is indeed open-ended. There are many variations. Citing the work of biased historians, such as holocaust-deniers and people who claim black slavery was wholly organized by Sephardic Jews, forces the respondent to come back with counterfacts or else be spun as weak and emotional. Much research is needed – how many of us have a library of detailed books on the fine minutiae of the Holocaust to refer to? All so-called ‘fake news’ is really entropic assertion trolling ballooning up to culture-occupying dimensions. Another entropic assertion trope is the completely fake accusation. I collected a sample where the troll TacoDealer accused the adamantly non-offending pedophile and father/family man Enderphile1 of “teaching a teenage boy how to give fellatio on here.” As my meme says, “Disproof of a total lie may be arduous.” Denial is easy, but try to collect evidence refuting something that’s completely fictitious. The troll is strong, and you are weak.

The ascent of Donald Trump to the U.S. presidency shows that trolling, dexterously executed, can attain enormous power. Much of the U.S. media’s attention in recent times has been absorbed by fact-finding about the President’s prodigious slew of entropic assertions, with truth values ranging from awkward to outlandishly ridiculous to weirdly implausible. Trump’s online fan club lulzes voluptuously along with him, eagerly repeating entropic assertions like ‘Mexicans are rapists,” “Hillary is a criminal” and “Obama bugged my premises.” The actual factuality is irrelevant. This is a group troll moment, and its participants are rolling in sadistic glee as their leader issues one false accusation after another.

If you don’t like it, you crying fuck, kill yourself.

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The_Ganymede_Arena_SB_Archive

Anonymous security alert – does Pedo-luring allow ISIS an inroad to attacking its online foe?…


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Date: April 03, 2017

01) PasteBin

By Bernie Najarian.


Anonymous security alert – does Pedo-luring allow ISIS an inroad to attacking its online foe?

The lawful pedophile activist community online – not to be confused with illegal exploitation groups mostly found on the dark web – has long been divided into two subgroups. There are the ‘virtuous pedophiles’ a.k.a. ‘virpeds,’ who firmly believe all sex with children is wrong, case closed. And there are the traditional youth-libertarians, who have been active as a group since the 1960s and who want to lower the age of consent, or in some way alter the concept of ‘age of consent.’ Each of these groups has had members active online for at least five years, sometimes far more. There are many well known names and pseudonyms like Tom O’Carroll, David Riegel, and Eric Tazelaar (libertarian) and Todd Nickerson, Ethan Edwards and Nick Devin (virped). Only three of those six names are real names, rather than pseudonyms.

In January, 2017, two new groups arose to join the age of consent and pedophilia debates, each of them using apparent real names and photos. All of them claimed not to be pedophiles. The smaller and more exotic group called itself ‘Clovergender;’ it claimed to represent people who were adults but who, as a gender identity akin to male/female transgenderism, identified as children. They were against pedophilic sex, they said, but they thought that since they identified as children, they should be able to play with children and even develop innocent special love relationships with them. This idea, naturally, triggered many people, who saw pedophile wolves trying to put on child sheep’s clothing.

The larger group called itself ‘Heart Progress’ and claimed to be altruistic, normal heterosexuals and homosexuals, none of them pedophiles, who thought that ‘pedosexuals,’ like homosexuals, should be able to have consensual sex with the child partners who found them agreeable. If this weren’t triggering enough, Heart Progress members made pro-Muslim statements that were intensely inflammatory to the current xenophobic Trump/Wilders/Farage/Le Pen right wing. ‘Peter Berstein,’ for example, tweeted “#AbovetheHate – Sometimes when history slows down, you need to progress, and that’s what we do here. It’s like updating Firefox, we need to update society. #PedosexualandProud #IslamisGreat #WelcomeRefugees #Feminism.” The really inflammatory bit on that tweet was the accompanying image, which showed a tiny doll-like toddler girl of two or three dressed in a fancy Muslim wedding dress, with the meme-logo “What my husband and I do in bed is nobody’s business.” Appearing at the bottom of the image were the hashtags #ShariaForAmerica and #WomensMarch.” (The last was a reference to prominent role of the allegedly Sharia-tolerant Palestinian-American Linda Sarsour as a national co-chair of the 2017 Women’s March).

OMGOMGOMGOMG!!! Far more triggers in there than in a 1960s cowboy movie.

‘Clive Martin’ of Heart Progress chimed in elsewhere with “4 – 6 is a perfect age (of consent). The Mideast is particularly progressive with their consent laws.” Note the key Trumpian-trigger word ‘progressive’ in there. Other members of the group made similar statements, while calling upon all to rise ‘Above the Hate.’

Joining in with the Heart Progress group was someone represented by a seedy looking, bearded male photo, ‘Frank B. Cousins.’ This person’s Twitter accounts are regularly suspended but always have the trigger word ‘NAMBLA’ in them. He sends comments to pedo-haters like “Does it really matter whether a child has any understanding of sex? It’s just another source of pleasure” and “Is your pathetic emotions hurt (sic) because you can’t get a small boy to ram his tight ass? It’s time for society to normalize pedophilia.”

Nambla.org still has an active website, and there is no ‘Frank B. Cousins’ mentioned there. Crude comments, such as anything about ‘ramming’ a small boy’s ass, are completely absent; indeed, ‘small boys’ were never the focus of the mostly teen-loving NAMBLA group.

The Heart Progress and Clovergender associations, examined by anyone who’s rational, must come under strong suspicion as trolls rather than genuine advocates. And, indeed, there are several testimonies online from 4chan participants that both campaigns were designed as deliberate trolling. See, for example, http://knowyourmeme.com/memes/clovergender There are counter-claims that the debunkings are fake, but the one unavoidable reality is that none of the people involved were ever heard of before 2017. The two campaigns give every appearance of being right-wing trolling, even though they rile up all right-wing people. Their extremity and inflammatory content are pitched to discredit transgendered people, ‘liberals,’ ‘the left’ (who, hypothetically, would be suckered to ‘normalize’ such deviations) and, of course, pedophiles. What could be a more perfect anti-liberal tactic than to rage-rouse with some fake pedophiles and child-gendered people demanding liberal tolerance and acceptance? Add in some cries for Sharia law to take over America, and you have a perfect recipe for getting out every right-wing pitchfork and pistol in America.

This troll assault on liberalism, if we can conclude that that is most likely what it is, was planned to be launched on Jan 1, 2017. All the web identities in both groups popped up right around that time. Interestingly, there was one earlier Daily Mail article from 2015 about a father of seven children who had left his wife to live ‘transgendered’ as a six-year-old girl in another family http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-3356084/I-ve-gone-child-Husband-father-seven-52-leaves-wife-kids-live-transgender-SIX-YEAR-OLD-girl-named-Stefonknee.html This story may have provided the prototype for the Clovergender escapade. Triggeringly, by the way, ‘Clover’ stands for ‘child lover.’

The Heart Progress and Clovergender campaigns are troll paradise, because the real liberal left, for the most part, is just as outraged by the troweled-on pro-pedosex and pro-crypto-pedo campaigns as the right is. The Anonymous movement, which was long part of the liberal-left but then morphed to become partly right-wing during the Russo-trolling Trump election campaign, has been especially active in trying to shut down the Twitter accounts and other web holdings of the two neo-groups.

On April 1 -which might be a clue to some people – Heart Progress claimed that they had planned a public rally in Delores Park, in the Mission District of San Francisco (i.e., close to the home of liberal liberation) to “Breed Out the Hate.” They were going to not only support pedosex and lowering the age of consent to four, but also, they were going to attack white privilege by encouraging all white people to breed with other races to eliminate their racism-prone white genomes. Triggerty trigger trigger. The Anons, led by an addled, fantasy-prone right-wing woman running the @OpPedoHunter and @2Adefender_ accounts, called out all their troops as well as the FBI and the ICE to rush to the park to combat the pedos on April Fool morning. Right. When some Deplorable sympathizers, like Pamela Tierney (@pamelaval) did show up and found no pedosex advocates in view, the Heart Progress people claimed they had been there all along. They announced they were going to follow up with a Bubble Flash Mob on Sunday, April 2, to involve as many children as possible in blowing soap bubbles with the kindly pedosex liberationists. “Look for the man in the top hat,” they instructed.

When that plan didn’t yield any carnage, since no pedosexers could be found by vigilantes in the park on April 2, the Heart Progress tweeters claimed they had suspended their plan to attend because some had received death threats.

The lunatic vs. lunatic noisemaking between Heart Progress, Clovergender, Anonymous and the Army of Deplorables has completely overwhelmed rational discussion of pedophilia, virtuous or lawful, that had been going on on Twitter. The Virtuous Pedophiles agenda, which had been all the outrage among Anonymous and Deplorables alike, was suddenly of low importance now that some ‘real’ pedophile advocates had been found. Heart Progress, whoever they were, had nearly blown the longstanding Twitter spokespeople of the minor-attracted community out of the water. To put a sparkler on this gaudy cake, the top virped account, that of the energetic and persuasive @enderphile1, was suspended sometime late on April 2. The lunatics had completely taken over the Tweetsylum.

Exposure to Twitter trains you to see falsity and potential hidden agendas, and the Heart Progress debacle suddenly seems to point toward a very active, real, but still hidden possibility.

Anonymous is intensely vulnerable to physical attack.

One factor that distinguishes Anonymous today from the pedo-hunting Anonymous that first came to minor-attracted attention in 2012 is that this one has become dedicated to fighting ISIS online. The impecunious Twitter isn’t remotely able to keep up with finding the thousands of pro-ISIS accounts that get registered there, and they are completely dependent on the Anonymous-led #OpISIS campaign to knock the Islamo-medievalists down via reporting of problem accounts. ISIS, like Anonymous, is completely dependent on the internet for recruiting, since it depends on attracting a rare strain of flaky people from within the Muslim community worldwide. Specifically, it targets young girls who want to have a marital life before they reach the western age of consent, and, most importantly, disgruntled, sociopathically hyperaggressive 20’s-early 30s males who haven’t found inspiration in the rubble of the post-industrial economy and who yearn for a mission they can identify with. Anonymous, in knocking out tens of thousands of social media accounts, as well as ISIS websites, has become one of the most effective enemies of ISIS.

It isn’t easy to take on an online enemy whose identities mostly remain unknown. Anonymous members, however, can be induced to gather physically under certain circumstances. To begin with, they established a practice a few years ago of having masked, mass demonstrations in many cities around the world under the rubric of ‘Million Mask March.’ This custom used to be connected to the Occupy movement and to be targeted against the wealthy 1%; now, it is as much connected to the Trump movement and targeted against imagined liberal governmental conspiracies. Masked people all look similar to one another, and typical terrorist suicide bombers mixing in with other unidentifiable people at a masked march could make a drastic dent, both physically and psychologically, against one of ISIS’s most effective foes.

The other way that Anonymous people can be induced to gather is by having them respond on the ground to an instance of outrage. As @OpPedoHunter said to ‘Ernst Steiner,’ one of the main honchos of Heart Progress, “Ernst, stop now before an army of Anons are unleashed on your ass. If you want trouble, you’ll get it. Promise.” Anonymous has always had a two-pronged military strategy in attacking its targets – purely cybernautical bombardment, hacking and DDOSing from the internet, and local vigilantism, based on raising up howling vigilante mobs locally around points of outrage. Anyone who can effectively create a focal point of Anonymous outrage, therefore, can bring in a drove of potential physical targets. A place ‘discovered’ to be the home of Ernst Steiner, for example, could raise up a significant crowd if it was in a well-chosen location.

The ‘Breed Out the Hate’ pseudo-demonstration, therefore, may have been a prototype in using anti-pedophile rage to attract the Anonymous mob to a geographic location. This demo was only announced a couple of weeks in advance, but it was a success, to a large extent, even though it didn’t actually happen on the ground. You can’t bring in enraged Anons by announcing an ISIS demonstration in California – the federales and local police would also attend. Police apparently paid no attention to the Heart Progress announcement, treating it as a jape. The coast is now clear for an organization that truly supports Sharia law in America, and medieval Islamic junior marriage traditions, to announce a bigger event well in advance, and let the outraged Anons buy the plane tickets and hotel accommodations that would give the subsequent explosion the best possible bang for its buck.

Anonymous needs to be aware that it is in a severely jeopardized security situation when it comes to any on-the-ground gathering. The long-standing online frustrations of ISIS propagandists who have had 150+ serial Twitter accounts suspended can be avenged. Many, though not all, of the Anons who have beset ISIS online have published the most insulting possible tweets about Allah and Mohammed, and have shown deep love for the stereotype that ISIS members, if not all Muslims, sexually molest goats and sheep. Mohammed is routinely called a pedophile for marrying Aisha, one of his best known wives, when she was nine years old. To bag some Anons and like-minded Deplorables by luring them with anti-pedophile rage would be sweet victory indeed for the ISIS boys.

Anonymous made a classic military error in taking on two completely independently motivated enemies simultaneously – ISIS and lawful minor-attracted people. This was done mainly because most of them are self-absorbed, reflexive moralists who lack the wherewithal to strategize. Also, the Maoist-anarchist structure of Anonymous, disclaiming all leadership, means that the lowest common strategic denominator of the mob tends to rule. Outrage verging on hysteria is boss. The distraction of pedophiles has thus become an Achilles heel for the masked mob militia, and given ISIS’s capacity for surprise, it may become a very costly one.

One hopes that publication of this security alert will cause some of these self-robotized moralists to come to their senses. The fact is that, as dictatorial, self-centered and censorious as Anonymous members are, we need them alive now until ISIS is finished off. They may be anti-democratic; many may be personally vicious and hard-of-thinking; nonetheless, they are an improvement on the Caliphate. The enemy of my enemy is my (hold nose) friend.

Let’s try to end this conflict off without having to pick up a lot of mask fragments.

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The_Ganymede_Arena_SB_Archive

The Age of Kafka and Consent

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Date: September 18, 2015

It was one of the follies of my fifteenth year that I decided I had to read every bit of Kafka that I could get my hands on.

I’d already gone through Sherlock Holmes and was looking for something weirder, something to really twist my brain out of shape. That’s undoubtedly why, on the morning of my sixteenth birthday, I drowsed out of sleep vibrating in a dream where I was a giant insect, a cockroach, with clicking mouthparts and waving antennas. I looked around at my glistening shell through an explosion of eyes. Bright light! I blinked. Huh? Suddenly I realized I was in my bed. I was human. Oh.

“Thank God!” I thought. I shook my head, glad there was only unruly hair up there, nothing that wanted to wave its joints around. How creepy to dream that you’re a bug. The Metamorphosis, I thought: that bizarre book. It just shows you how sweet reality can be. And in real life, I had a few long-treasured plans for the day. Time to get moving!

Breakfast was wonderful. My parents weren’t up yet; it was Saturday and they needed their rest. But the mountain bike I’d been dreaming of was right there in the kitchen, with a card on it, tied with a ribbon. Wow! Silver, sturdy, gears like a math text written in steel and oil. This was going to be great.

Vermont isn’t the most mountainous place in the world, but parts of it get pretty steep. I was up early because I had a plan to meet with my boyfriend and celebrate my 16th in a special way. He was a mountain biker already; he’d been doing it for years. We were all set to try out my new bike together – and something else.

I guess I’d gone out on a limb getting myself a bf who was so ancient – 22 years old, for heaven’s sakes. But he looked like Niall from One Direction, so what could I do? We chatted about geckoes in the pet shop one time and we just kept looking at each other. I’m sure you know the sensation. It wasn’t all about reptiles. Finally I invited him home to look at an infection my male crested had. My mom was there the whole time, a bit nonplussed, but I’d been out to her since I was 13, and she bit her lip. After he was gone, she said, “I can see what’s going on there, but I want you to promise me you won’t break the law. And if you like him, you won’t let him break the law, if it comes to that.”

“Mawwm,” I protested, “there’s nothing going on like that!” But there was, of course. In fact, the next time I saw him, I broke the ice with him by telling him about the promise I’d made to my concerned parent. He grinned sheepishly. “You have a smart mom,” he said.

So this was going to be our day to obey the law – from the other side. And luck was with us – it was radiant out there, sunny, warm, without a trace of thunderstorm. Somewhere, a bed of grass was waiting for us, or some crispy maple leaves from last year.

We met up. He was in Spandex, black and red, like the handsomest gecko you’ve ever seen. I just had my jeans and T-shirt on. We admired my bike, we slapped each other’s shoulders, and then we took off to the west, across the river, up the hill. He had a sketchy map of the trails, photocopied to the 20th generation, and we headed out for the summits, just following whatever looked interesting and scenic. He’d brought energy bars and other snacks; we had water with us; everything we needed was there. But the thing we had the most of was need itself. I’d never felt so much anticipation. It was like I was full of being empty. Someone hug me, please.

After lots of legwork and gearshifting, and a few wild high-speed sprees down the other sides of slopes, we came to a gorgeous spot that was so isolated that we knew it was reserved just for us. Jason, looking hyped with exercise and healthy thoughts, pulled a thin, nylon cloth out of his backpack and unfolded it across the grassy, leafy ground, in a small glade amongst maples.

“I don’t even want lunch first,” I said. “Me neither,” he breathed. We grabbed each other in a hug.

“Thank you for waiting for me,” I said.

“It was a stretch,” he smiled, and then stood back to stretch the spandex off, undoing the zips as needed. I removed my own cottons in seconds. It was warm out here.

“I knew I was going to be impressed, but I’m impressed,” he said, looking at my swaying branch. “You could hang a swing from that.”

“We’re a good match,” I said. It happened that we were around the same height, so I stepped in and tucked mine up against his, along the corduroy of our flat bellies. “I’ll go tip to tip with you any time.” I wasn’t scientific enough to look closely to see who was bigger. Didn’t matter. We were there, that’s what mattered.

“Incredible,” he said, without explaining. And then – I guess I can spare you the details of lips and saliva and admiring glances that would make my friends blush and say ‘you guys are too much.’ I’m glad they weren’t there. It wasn’t too much. It was just enough. Finally. Like a baby getting its first milk, I drank the attention and came to life; I drank for my health.

We rolled in each other’s arms across the blanket, one side to the other. Then we did it – a real sex act. Some people don’t think it’s sex, I guess – it’s something young gay guys can do that people used to name after the university in the next valley – the Yale rub, the Princeton rub – just sliding the distending members pleasantly along one another, sandwiched between two bellies – no penetration, no lube, safe as hell, easy to kiss-and-do, and sooo sooo …

I don’t want to hit him with ‘I love you,’ I thought. “Part of me feels like – we’re flying together,” I said, between kisses. “I hear you,” he said, “it’s like that.” I giggled. “Part of me feels like you’ve tied me to the sawmill track and you’re sawing me in half,” I laughed again, as the sawing motion of his cock across my belly reminded me of some old Merrie Melodies cartoon I’d seen, where the villain threatened to saw the beautiful maiden in half. “You’re weird,” he chuckled, and kissed me to shut me up. And then we couldn’t talk anymore … woah…. woah… oh no, that’s it … ah!… splashdown! other splashdown! …. omigosh.

I will not say ‘I love you.’ Sure wish I could.

“Incredible,” I said. “Incredible,” he agreed, “I guess that’s our word, isn’t it?” I nodded. We had a few napkins that were good for cleanup, and then it was time to eat something, say a few more nice things to one another, and move on. Having come so far, no pun intended, we had to go all the way back. I marked the spot of our forest glade on my phone’s GPS so we could find the same place again next time we came biking this way.

“I think my left foot’s asleep,” I said as we got up to get on our bikes. I shook it. It felt strangely tingly. Even after I got on my bike and started pedalling, it bothered me. But I put it out of mind and carried on. Biking got progressively more difficult, though, and I began to feel distinctly odd.

“Let’s take a short break,” I panted as we came down into one valley about half way home.

“You OK, Nick?” Jason asked me. “Want some Gatorade?”

“Sure,” I said. “I feel weird. My left leg is kind of acting up. I think I’m OK, though.”

“Wow, I hope nothing’s going on,” Jason said. “Maybe you’re just not used to this much cycling.”

“That’s probably it,” I said. Just then some sort of a small fly flew into my right eye. I rubbed at the eye to get the intruder out. As I did so, I caught a glimpse of Jason out of my other eye and suddenly he looked – it was very strange – he looked ugly. “Sick fuck,” I muttered under my breath. Huh?

I shook my head and looked at him out of both eyes. He was as beautiful as ever, and just as friendly. “What did you say?” he asked me. “Oh nothing,” I said, “‘trick leg’ or something like that.”

What the hell was that all about? I was glad he hadn’t heard me. What sort of crazy impulse…?

He came over and gave me a back rub for encouragement. He kneaded my left thigh for a moment, which made my leg jump.

“Something’s going on there,” I said, “but the best thing we can do is just get home and then I can have a hot bath. I hope that’ll sort it out.”

“Me too,” he said, looking concerned. We hoisted ourselves on our bikes and made the long pedal back to town.

At my front yard, I said my goodbyes to him. Didn’t want to kiss him in front of the neighbors, but I said, “well, in spite of my leg, that was amazing. We have to do that again as soon as possible.”

“I’m glad you’re as happy as I am,” he said. “I … I think so much of you. Well, happy sixteenth, have a good cake and all that. Say hi to your parents for me.”

Then he was off home and I was off to a family birthday dinner. I was a touch late because the cycle back had been such a slog, but they overlooked it. They were just glad I liked the bike and had used it so well. I didn’t give details of the events of our trip, but my mom caught my eye and I think my smile gave me away.

By the end of the night, my left leg and arm were both feeling very, very unusual. I couldn’t figure it out. As I went to bed, I thought back on the day and my thoughts immediately turned to those blissful moments, Jason and I, hurtling through the heavens of horny friendship together. Boy, that was so good, that was so good! Then, unexpectedly, I was crying. But why? And I noticed: tears were only coming out of my left eye. The right was fine. But the right was the one that had had the bug in it. Why should the other one get irritated? But was it just irritation? Something didn’t feel right.

Over the next few days, the pain in my left side didn’t go away. It was more a feeling of compression or oppression than pain, really, just a feeling that something wasn’t right. One of the vaguest, most indescribable sensations I’ve ever experienced. Jason told me to go to the doctor and I did, but old Doc Chang was as baffled as I was. He referred me to the sports medicine clinic, and they suggested some exercises, but nothing helped. A couple of weeks went by. Jason and I started meeting at my place, but my body was too out of sorts for me to continue our legal adventures, even though I think my mom would have turned a blind eye when needed. I went back to Dr. Chang and something about the crying left eye made him shake his head. He made me an appointment to a neurologist and a psychologist. “Might be psychosomatic, some sort of stress,” he said. “Have you done anything recently that you have mixed emotions about, or that troubled you?”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

When I went to the psychologist, she gave me a long questionnaire to start off with. There were several questions in it about sex life, and I was obliged to check off that I was attracted to my own sex, and that I was sexually active. Then she talked to me. When she found out that the strange symptoms had begun just after I’d had sex for the first time ever, her eyes lit up.

“I don’t know what it means,” she said, “but there’s definitely a connection there.” I was rather embarrassed, but we talked over all the details. She shook her head. “It all sounds so normal,” she said. But then, clearly, a thought struck her.

“Where exactly was this?” she asked.

“I happen to have the exact location on my GPS,” I said. I pulled out my phone and got the number. “Let’s see on the map where that was. So, is there, like, some place that has poisonous plants or something?”

“That’s not what I’m thinking,” she muttered. Meanwhile, the map composed itself on my phone. I showed it to her. It was just someplace in the middle of a forest, as you’d expect.

“I bet these hatch marks here are the border,” she said. I looked. Yes, there were some faint mapping marks there that passed right through our GPS point.

“Here’s the problem,” she said. “Your sexual act took place exactly along the border of New York State. Do you know which way was north and which direction you were lying in?”

“I guess I was lying to the north,” I said.

“Your right side was in New York,” she said, “but that’s your healthy side. But wait a moment, your right brain governs the left side of your body. Bicameral mind, basic neurology. A bit oversimplified but it still holds to a large extent. But this is unbelievable!!!”

“What is it?” I asked, very confused.

“Here’s what I think,” she said. “Your whole right side, including the right half of your head, was across the border in New York. Your left side was in Vermont. The age of consent in New York State is 17, not 16 like it is here. Your right side has been horribly abused!!”

“But it’s fine,” I exclaimed.

“Yes, but your left side is governed mostly by the right hemisphere of your brain! Your right side wasn’t able to give consent to the act you committed! You’ve been grievously psychically injured in your right brain, but it’s only been able to make its trauma known through the left!”

“Holy shit – sorry to swear,” I blurted. I’d remembered what I’d almost said to Jason when I saw him out of my left eye, when the fly flew into my right. “Does the right brain also connect with the left eye?”

“It does,” she told me.

If I’d known the effect it was going to have, I would never have told her the story of what happened during my fly-in-the-eye incident, but I was so naïve. I told her the whole thing.

“I’m sorry, Nick,” the psychologist told me. “Even though we’re in Vermont, this is an act of child abuse, and I’m professionally obligated to report it. I have no choice. I could be arrested if I don’t.”

“I wasn’t child-abused!!” I said in great annoyance.

“Legally,” she said, “half of you was, and though I’ve never heard of a case like this before, that’s clearly too much. The left side of your brain may have been able to give consent, but the right side was an innocent child and had no ability whatever to do that. And so, on that side, you were horribly, horribly taken advantage of by a vicious predator. We need to do emergency counselling to try to heal your trauma, and I’m afraid the police are going to have to have a chat with your friend.”

I refused to tell her Jason’s name, but that night, a big policeman and an even bigger policewoman came around to my door. They gathered me with my parents and told us that if they didn’t get the name and address of the man who’d abused the right half of me, they’d arrest all of me for obstructing the course of justice. I told them what they wanted to know. I thought I’d phone Jason and warn him, but it turned out the officers had a warrant along with them. They seized my phone, and ordered my parents not to let me use the land line. They went right out and radioed their units, and it turned out Jason was raided within fifteen minutes of my giving up his name. They had warrants all ready, just fill in the blank. His computer equipment was all seized, and agents spent, in total, five hours opening everything in his small apartment, even flipping through the pages of every book looking for hidden porn pictures or whatever. He was taken down to the police station, spent a night in jail, and was bailed by his parents the next day. After putting up his bail, they refused to speak to him. He managed to get a legal aid lawyer signed up and got ready to consider his options.

He was charged with sexual abuse against a minor – I don’t know the exact legalese they used – and possession of child pornography. I didn’t know at the time, but the other charge was based on a National Geographic magazine that had a photo with some naked Thai boys swimming in a river. I eventually saw that detail in an affidavit online, but our local newspaper on Friday, under the headline “No half measures in fighting child abuse, say our cops” only mentioned ‘possession of child pornography.’ I’d have thought they’d be interested in the kind of magazine it was, but apparently, the crime was too awful for that to be relevant. He had a whole shelf of National Geographics his parents had handed down to him, that much I knew. It must have taken the authorities a lot of work to find that picture.

Before long, I was called to testify in court. They wanted me to make a ‘victim impact statement,’ but I refused. Even though everyone tried to prevent me being traumatized by seeing my abuser, I insisted on sitting in the courtroom and watching the proceedings. Jason, it turned out, had been charged at first with offenses that would have given him 25 years in prison. His clever lawyer argued that down to 12 ½ based on only half of me having been abused, the rest being a gay consensual adult who was entitled to respect from the law. Then the prosecutor offered him a plea deal of only 10 years if he’d plead guilty, but in the end, he couldn’t do it. He was convinced that a person couldn’t be split in half for purposes of consent.

Common sense like that is not a major contender in law. The prosecution called an expert witness, a Professor Julia Timbaman, who stated that in almost all right handed people and also the majority of left-handers, the left side of the brain is the one making most of the executive decisions. Since, as we lay facing north so that I could catch the sun’s warmth, his rational, executive left half had been above me in New York, with my artistic, impressionable, illegally young right half below him, he was clearly taking advantage. The power was all on his side. In fact, the kind of sexual deviancy he possessed derived its pleasure entirely from taking power and control over a helpless innocent below. There was no question, the expert said, that Jason was my right side’s rapist. If he were released into society without prolonged treatment under the auspices of the prison system, he would undoubtedly rape again. In fact, he must certainly have other victims, probably over 150 of them, according to published studies, even though none had come forward in response to the newspaper stories. It should be looked into, how he may have intimidated them.

At the end of this testimony, the audience in the courtroom erupted as dozens of people shouted “degenerate fuck!” “Immoral rapist!” “Go kill yourself now!” “Your kind should all die!” and other such phrases at my boyfriend. The judge had to scream and hammer the gavel to get the room back under control.

The defense side, at the cost of every penny Jason had ever saved, introduced a local expert witness who testified that the latest neurology showed a lot of crossover among the functions of the left and right brain, and pointed out, in addition, that my brain had not been studied intensively with MRI scanners to show that its decision-making executive abilities lay entirely in the left. My right brain may have been able to coordinate with my left, giving a unified consent rooted in the legally recognized executive powers of the left brain hemisphere situated in Vermont.

In the legal summations, the prosecution lawyer pointed out that even if all my executive functions were in my right brain, and they consented fully, they were still in New York State, and therefore whatever they decided in terms of consent was of no legal relevance. The contribution of the right brain to the consent formed in the left was immaterial.

“That right brain,” he shouted, just below the top of his voice, “was the right brain of a child, a helpless child. Its innocence was violated. The half-victim’s childhood was thereby wiped out prematurely, and, in the opinion of many, its soul was gutted from his body, leaving him – albeit asymmetrically in this case – prone to every form of despair, devastation and drug addiction, unless hundreds of hours of psychological treatment are able to help his injured half. The arguments of our esteemed local junior professor, the defense expert, are merely duplicates of the cognitive distortions that pedophiles invent for themselves to justify their abusive behaviors. I’ve seen this over and over. The predatory monster who took foul advantage of this victim’s childish hemi-innocence must never walk the streets unmonitored, and must serve a long prison sentence. Even though he will incur the hatred of every other sort of prisoner, including his moral superiors like mere fleshly murderers, he may be fortunate to survive and learn the error of his incurable ways, even though he can never be rehabilitated.”

It only took the jury 30 minutes to find Jason guilty. The crowd was very pleased; they roared their approval. Fists were shaken in the air. Reporters crowded around the courthouse door. They were allowed to talk to me, since I was, in this jurisdiction, a consenting adult.

“Did your right half get some closure from today’s proceedings?” one of them asked me. I had no idea how to answer that. “Are the parts of you that need it getting help?” another reporter shouted at me. I ducked into my parents’ car and we drove away.

I didn’t think I needed help. By this time, I’d cured my left side. One night, I’d read a lot of websites online that I usually wouldn’t dare to surf to, and somewhere in the midst of a blog post about a kid being put on the sex offender registry for having a naked photo of himself on his phone, I got really mad. Obviously my right brain got just as mad as my left brain. I could feel that hemisphere, in its intuitive right-brain way, claiming ownership of its consent and retroactively hugging Jason with all its force. I heard its emotion-laden thought process forming just enough words to say, as a ringing inner shout that reverberated right through me, “New York State and everyone else involved in this travesty, fuck the hell off!” I could feel my body re-integrating completely in that moment, back in perfect health – though my thoughts were more turbulent than ever.

Jason was sentenced to 15 years, plus life on the register of sex offenders. He was enjoined never to communicate with me again.

The night after I heard that news, I could hardly sleep. When I did, I woke up. Over and over, I drifted in and out, trapped between shallow sleep and torment. I can’t begin to tell you how upset I was. I was almost nauseous, and I sweated like a pig, even though by this time, the weather was cold. I was in terrible depression and pain. I couldn’t stand it. I thought of Jason. Mentally, I gave him a kiss, I hugged him, and I finally said, “I love you.” “I love you too,” he said back, with huge tears in his eyes. Sleep almost came after that; I craved it vacantly, but it kept holding off.

Then finally, I felt a moment of confusion, saw some strange shadows, and I looked down and saw that my hands had turned into claws. I tried to talk and I could hear mouth sections gnashing, like polystyrene model parts clicking into place, and I could lift my head on a joint and swivel my eyes, while antennas probed the air for news. A sense of horror I’d been feeling for months swept off me and I was suddenly completely calm. I was a bug again. A cockroach. Not a human.

“Thank God!” I whispered.


This story was written by Kamil Beylant: @Securityconcern on Twitter

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Chris Wittwer and the Nigel Oldfield lynch mob…


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Date: August 17, 2015

01) LINK
Posted by Bernie Najarian on 2015-August-15

Notice of Raw Links:

Friday, Aug. 7, Maltby, a suburb of Rotherham, South Yorkshire, England. A rumor was getting around on social media.

“Paedo!” the people were typing to each other, or “peado!”, as the case may be.

Lydia Reed was typing to her friend Gemma Johnston on Facebook: “I didnt fkin realise he lived at the top of this road, fumin walk every day with my kids to skool.”

Another neighbor, Carly Louise, got in on the horror: “He just got on our bus and we have 4 young kids with us.”

Then local freelance news photographer Ryan Booth perked up his online ears. “What bus is that?” he messaged.

The lynch mob was underway.

The object of the horror, former chemistry teacher Nigel Oldfield, 54, had never touched a child sexually. He had also claimed steadfastly online that he was not a pedophile, based on the clinical definition. Nonetheless, he had earned himself a multi-year membership on the sex offenders’ registry in Britain in 2002, after he’d gone on a spree of depression-fueled image downloading, 11,000 images in all, of which a handful were considered legally actionable. After doing 15 months of prison time and realizing he was now all but unemployable in the mean streets of de-industrialized Britain, he emerged with the idea that the punishment didn’t fit the crime. He became an online activist and gadfly, sparring with the political leaders of the abuse victim movement and insisting that an image was information, not a person. Some of the victims were sensitive about their own childhood images being out and about, and this didn’t go over well. They also were convinced that Oldfield and other sex offenders should be forever forbidden the right to speak. They campaigned hard to have him removed from the internet, resulting in several prominent newspaper articles and many banned social media accounts. Oldfield, whose motto is ‘always winning,’ invariably re-emerged and began piercing rhetorical bubbles again. Repeated account deletions only served to make him immune to ‘block’ functions in the social media sites.

How exactly he came to live, without any fanfare, in Maltby, is not clear. Life was so secure there that, in July, he offered a ‘safe house’ to pedophile writer Tom O’Carroll. O’Carroll was then enduring a tempest of public fury after he’d told reporters for Australia’s ‘60 Minutes’ television program how a 10 year old girl sitting on one’s knee could consent to sexual activity.

Now, the Maltby house was not so safe.

Some time after Oldfield got on the bus with Carly Louise, Andy Struggles, a chunky 20s/30s guy with a new baby daughter and a Rottweiler, posted the ex-offender’s address on Facebook. (The name Andy Struggles, despite its suggestion of manly battle, appears to be a real name, not fake.) He also put in a friend request to Chris Wittwer, the UK’s best known old-school anti-pedo vigilante, who runs the online 40,000-record “Database of ‘convicted/cautioned’ UK & Irish child abusers & animal perverts.” Among Andy’s 538 Facebook friends or their friends-of-friends was Julie Meese, a young woman tweeting as @Megajules01. She tweeted: “Ugh. Apparently paedo Nigel Oldfield has moved into my locality according to this guy, facebook.com/andy.struggles … who gives an address.”

The result was as described in a later story in the Daily Mail (5).

“The five hour long incident in Maltby, near Rotherham, South Yorkshire, last Friday started when a social media posting alerted residents that Oldfield was living in the house.

Graffiti was daubed on his front door and Oldfield – who was carrying a length of wood – was allegedly assaulted.

A pensioner, who asked not to be named said: ‘I heard glass being smashed around 5pm and saw a group of people throwing objects at the windows.

‘More people arrived – there must have been 100 people outside shouting.’

The eyewitness said Oldfield came out of the house and was allegedly heard shouting: ‘Bring your children to me.’

The pensioner added: ‘He was then attacked. He must be used to getting a beating because I could hear him shouting ‘is that all you’ve got?’

The photo of Nigel with a bloody nose, standing on his doorstep and flourishing a board, was posted early on in the fracas by Ryan Booth, the photographer. Booth also tweeted the insider information that Oldfield had been “spotted by someone who lived in his last town” (Doncaster) and he’d “been here 18 months (and) no one new (sic) who he was.” The name of the person who recognized Oldfield has not appeared online, to our knowledge.

Booth has locked his Twitter account since these disclosures were made and has offered to speak to the South Yorkshire Police about how he gained his intimate knowledge of the mob attack. Our perusal of his media prior to the lock-up, however, showed that he arrives with his camera at most dramatic community events.

After five hours, as the Daily Mail noted, the police eventually saw fit to arrive and Nigel was bundled off. They may have used an unmarked car – Facebooker Zoe Clark, who was clearly on the scene, commented, “Haven’t seen any cop cars but could have been in another car…” She continued, conspiratorially, “and cannot disclose his address on here.” Tammy Perry ‘Née Thompson’ likewise chimed in with “can’t put full address on here x” (the ‘x’ symbolizes a kiss).

Meanwhile, as the mob scene broke up and news of the event got around, new single mom Cheralyn Rose Hogan, a bleach-blond who has worked doing ‘girl-girl’ shoots with softcore porn model Kate-@katieee2610, sent an outraged tweet out to the UK’s other celebrity ‘paedophile hunter,’ Stinson Hunter. She’d got wind that Nigel, perhaps because of his bloody nose, had been taken to the local Accident and Emergency Ward (‘A&E’) of a nearby hospital.

Cheralyn-Rose ?@ChezyMJ Aug 8

@StinsonHunter Nigel Oldfield is in Maltby, Rotherham. Last night he was beaten by locals. He’s currently in rotherham A&E right now.

Stinson was already on the case, publicizing the affair. To fan the flames, he had posted an audio track from his archives in which Oldfield was interviewed on the phone-in show of right-wing radio scandalizer Jon Gaunt in 2012 (1, 2). The show had featured Wittwer and his organization “Children Have Rights in Society (CHRIS). Oldfield had taken on a skeptical, sometimes pugnacious attitude towards Gaunt and Wittwer; Gaunt ultimately had hung up on him. This recording of an uppity paedo-niggra was sure to inflame the lynch crowd.

On Saturday morning, Aug. 8, Wittwer, working closely with mob members stalking Oldfield in Maltby, posted, on his website, a close-range photograph of Oldfield sitting in a chair in the A&E, apparently none the worse for wear (3). Later, another close-range photo was published on a Maltby Facebook crime-reporting page (‘NEW Maltby Crime Awareness Group’) by Becki Content Hoggard, showing Oldfield sitting in the streaming mid-morning sunshine in the A&E, with a couple of quickly packed bags at his feet.

Oldfield, interviewed by my news team, did not wish to comment on the events that took place at A&E. Wittwer stated that Oldfield had been “attacked twice in 24 hours,” and a Facebook poster noted that the boyfriend of a woman she knew had had a confrontation with Oldfield in the A&E. Details of any unrest occurring at the A&E remain undisclosed at this point.

Hoggard reported on Facebook that, as shown in her photo, Oldfield “sat playing on his phone.” In fact, one action he was taking was to set up the latest in his series of Twitter accounts and reassure his friends that he was OK.

A week after the incident, on Friday, Aug. 14, an article appeared in the local Rotherham Advertiser documenting the “hate mob” riot (4). The writer, Tom Sharpe, stated in his background paragraphs that Oldfield “had set up a website in prison from which he played ‘agony uncle’ to paedophiles, attempting to justify their activities and demanding that sex with children be made legal.” We have not been able to verify the last assertion, and the legalization of sex with children is not a position that Oldfield has actively espoused in recent times. Attempts by our team to get Sharpe, who has a Twitter account, to substantiate his statements went unanswered. Sharpe also stated that Oldfield’s blog had advised paedophiles how to download child porn without being caught. Oldfield’s response was to tweet, “It is really the biggest and most dangerous pile of poo written about me …. Evah.” The same “pile of poo” was repeated nearly verbatim in the Daily Mail in its semi-cloned version of the Advertiser story on Aug. 14 (5).

Stinson Hunter’s photo post of the Advertiser story (4) features a revealing statement written in text over the photos of the article: “This is Nigel Oldfield whose address, through various sources, we revealed on Saturday night.” Since the Hunter website is linked to receive content from Wittwer’s website, it is not clear if this confession is from Hunter or Wittwer.

Oldfield’s former Maltby address remains, in fact, on Wittwer’s Facebook page (6) courtesy of mom and titillation trade worker Cheralyn-Rose Hogan

Aug. 8. Cheralyn Hogan. 1 queen mary street maltby rotherham s66 area. He had his house located last night, smashed up and he received a good beating. Search NEW maltby crime awareness group on Facebook for more updates.

As you can see, this posting came well after Elvis had left the building.

South Yorkshire Police are currently in the process of determining if anyone will be deemed to have committed an offense based on the five-hour spree of bottle-throwing, property destruction and alleged beating. In the meantime, members and friends of the Maltby lynch mob are not being reticent about their condoning of the violence.

Kerry Costello Round posted on Facebook “Let this be a warning to all other peados (sic)!! Our ‘Hate mob’ is on standby… I have never been so proud as to say I chose Maltby to settle down in… when shit like this happens, this village unites…”

Also on Facebook, Claire Beaumont has photographed herself making a salute that combines the Nazi thrust arm with the ISIS raised finger. Her message: “Nazi’s r us, we will not let pedophiles live near our children.”

Oldfield himself has done much documentation of the mob that beset him; the results are yet to be seen.

It also remains to be seen if the law, so diligent in dealing with image-downloaders, has the will to do anything about violent lynch mobs and their sinister online coordinators and inciters.

Links

1. Radio interview – Chris wittwer & convicted paedo Nigel Oldfield
from chris wittwer Jon Gaunt talking about the C.H.R.I.S (children have rights in society) campaign naming and shaming convicted paedophiles,where Paedophile Nigel Oldfield rings in to try and justify his actions !https://vimeo.com/28671624

2. https://www.facebook.com/video.php?v=452447448260511

3. https://twitter.com/UK_Database_CSA/status/630085541070028801/photo/1

4. http://www.stinsonhunter.com/paedo-driven-out-by-hate-mob/

5. http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3198277/Convicted-paedophile-taunts-angry-parents-shouting-Bring-children-100-strong-mob-surrounding-house.html

6. https://www.facebook.com/UK.database/posts/356536377852840

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