I really donโt give a shit about the Reflecting Pool. I also donโt appreciate walking 15 minutes from the closest train, straight under the death sun star. But I do give a shit about people posting AI slop. So here is what it actually looked like today, Sunday 6/7.
Hasan Piker: โWeโve all seen what Israel actually represents which is a belligerent genocidal apartheid nation that is willing to destroy the entire fucking planetโs energy markets in an effort to achieve one of itโs military objectives of destroying the only sovereign nation in the region, Iran, from being a military deterrence against their Greater Israel project. You can sit around and say thatโs antisemitic, itโs just the fucking realityโ
Wanna know why Basque police beat @gbsumudflotilla torture survivors?
These are the same cops who've taken โฌ1.6M in Israeli security contracts, trained by former Mossad agents, and equipped with Israeli surveillance tech.
READ MY LATEST: https://t.co/zm8CTWkEQP
I have watched Israel decapitate children, burn people alive, rape people to death, maul a disabled man to death with dogs, bomb schools, starve an entire population, and shoot children in the head, but somehow I'm supposed to believe that Ben-Gvir's actions "aren't the spirit of Israel."
I have never been an FBI agent. Never conducted an investigation. Never worn a wire or served a warrant or spent a winter in a field office where the heating runs four hours behind the interrogation schedule. I was a congressional staffer. Then a political appointee. Then a different kind of political appointee. Then the Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, which is also a kind of political appointee, except the furniture is nicer and the jet is mine.
I run the building.
I would like to tell you about the jet.
It seats fourteen. It costs sixty million dollars. The interior was refurbished during the Bush administration and the procurement file describes the upholstery as "heritage cognac." I know this because I requested the file. Not for oversight purposes. I wanted to know the name of the color so I could describe it at dinner. Heritage cognac. It smells like a law firm that has never lost. I spend a lot of time in that smell now. I think it is the smell of having arrived somewhere that was never meant for you, and noticing that nobody has asked you to leave.
Washington to Philadelphia is a hundred and forty miles. Amtrak runs it for forty-nine dollars. I flew the Gulfstream on May 10th because Alexis wanted to see George Strait. The suite was thirty-five thousand. Maybe fifty. I don't track numbers below six figures. The flight crew stayed on past eleven. Overtime. Security too. Someone will calculate the cost per mile of flying a sixty-million-dollar aircraft to cover a distance shorter than most Uber rides. That someone will not be me. I was in the suite. The suite didn't have a calculator. It had George Strait.
The Bureau told reporters Alexis was "an invited guest of the performers." Representatives for George Strait and Chris Stapleton did not confirm this. They were never going to. But the FBI said it, and under my leadership, when the FBI says something, that is the evidentiary standard.
I run the building. The building said it. It's true.
Her protection detail is where the budget gets interesting.
Twenty-four-seven coverage. SWAT-certified agents. Field officers drawn from multiple Bureau offices nationwide. Two armored SUVs at minimum. Hair appointments. Musical appearances. A blowout in Nashville required four agents in a parking lot for ninety minutes. The annual cost is roughly one million dollars before overtime, vehicle maintenance, and incidentals. The Bureau cites "hundreds of credible violent death threats" as justification.
One person has been arrested. His name is Alden Welch Ruml, twenty-six, from Massachusetts. He sent emails. He faces five years.
One emailer. One million dollars a year. Four SWAT agents per errand. A quarter of a million dollars in federal protection per verified threat. For context: the average FBI field office spends less annually on its entire confidential human source program. Informants embedded inside drug cartels, counterterrorism cells, organized crime families โ the people whose testimony sends other people to prison โ cost the Bureau less to keep alive than it costs me to ensure my girlfriend arrives at a salon escorted by men trained to rappel from helicopters.
One of my officials suggested we conduct a formal threat assessment. A review. The kind of paperwork the Bureau has generated for seventy years whenever a protection decision requires justification. He had been with the Bureau for nineteen years. He asked in the hallway, in front of staff. I berated him. Not quietly. He stopped asking.
He stopped asking.
That phrase is going to recur in this document. I want you to notice it each time.
Now. Alexis Wilkins is a country singer. I should mention this. She has released eight singles and one EP titled *Grit*. She has zero chart appearances. Her most-streamed song has five hundred and two thousand lifetime plays on Spotify. Taylor Swift accumulates that figure in approximately eleven minutes. A full-time country music journalist at the industry's leading independent publication stated that he had never heard of Alexis Wilkins before I started dating her. She has no active tour. She has never headlined a festival. Rolling Stone cited a forty-eight percent increase in her streaming numbers after we became public, which the same journalist clarified was "a forty-eight percent increase from virtually nothing."
This is the person for whom the FBI fields a million-dollar annual protective detail.
I want you to hold those two facts together โ the streaming numbers and the security budget โ and understand that they do not represent a miscalculation. They represent a value system. Her protection is not proportional to the threat. Her protection is proportional to her proximity to me. That is the formula. Proximity to the Director equals resources from the Bureau. I have applied it consistently. I have applied it to everyone.
Which brings me to the people who are no longer here.
I have removed over fifty career officials since January. Twelve have filed suit. Marshall Yates โ my Congressional liaison, formerly the director of something called the Election Integrity Network, which existed to challenge the 2020 results โ personally called field offices to compile names. Everyone who worked a case involving the President. Six thousand names were requested by the White House. The acting director before me was asked who he voted for. When he started supporting the President. Whether the FBI had tried to "put the president in jail." He was told the President hasn't forgotten.
Three hundred counterterrorism and counterintelligence agents have been reassigned to immigration enforcement. The unit monitoring Iran โ Iran, which operates proxy militias across four countries and maintains an active assassination program targeting American officials on American soil โ was gutted. Six federal prosecutors in the Eastern District of Virginia have resigned or been pushed out rather than participate in the prosecution of the previous FBI Director, James Comey, whose crime was investigating the President and whose punishment is being investigated by the institution the President gave me as a gift.
I am prosecuting the last Director for doing his job. I am doing this from a fifty-thousand-dollar suite while a sixty-million-dollar aircraft idles on the tarmac outside.
Nobody in the building finds this ironic. The ones who would have found it ironic are gone. They stopped asking.
My Deputy Director is Dan Bongino. He has never worked a federal case. His career before this was conservative talk radio. He receives the President's Daily Brief every morning โ CIA product, NSA intercepts, the full intelligence take of the United States government โ and he obtained his SCI clearance after I waived his polygraph. The FBI's own guidelines state that polygraphs are a "preliminary employment requirement." My lawyers reclassified him as a Schedule C political appointee. Experts said that's not how the statute works. The experts are career officials. Career officials are the previous administration's furniture. I am redecorating.
Nikole Rucker is my personal assistant. She arrived at the Bureau on January 20th without a security clearance of any kind. She was physically escorted into the Director's suite because the door requires a clearance she did not possess. By February she was in London, seated across from a Western allied intelligence service, notebook open, pen moving. She used to work for Stephen Miller. The White House says she does not share operational details with him. I am told this is technically accurate in the way that most technically accurate statements are technically accurate.
The polygraphs are still running. Just not for my people. We administer them now to career staff. The questions have changed. We ask whether they've criticized me. Whether they've spoken to a reporter. Whether they've expressed doubt about the direction of the Bureau. The machine measures stress. Under my leadership, stress has been reclassified as disloyalty. Disloyalty as a security risk. A security risk as grounds for termination. Fifty people have traveled this chain. Twelve are suing. The rest stopped asking.
I run the building.
In February a New York Times reporter named Elizabeth Williamson published details about the protective detail. I opened a preliminary inquiry. Federal stalking charges. We searched our databases for her information. The Department of Justice reviewed the file, found no legal basis, and terminated the inquiry. Called it retaliation. The Times' executive editor called it "a blatant violation of Elizabeth's First Amendment rights."
I do not retaliate. I respond to threats. A journalist publishing accurate reporting about my personal use of public resources is, by my definition, a threat to operational security. My definitions are the ones that govern inside this building. I wrote the organizational chart. There is a framed copy on my wall. It has one name at the top.
The Atlantic published a separate story. Excessive drinking. Frequent absences. Staff forcing entry into my home because I could not be reached. I filed a two-hundred-and-fifty-million-dollar defamation lawsuit. At my budget hearing, Senator Van Hollen cited the allegations under oath. I told him the only person slinging margaritas on the taxpayer dollar was him โ in El Salvador, with a convicted gang-banging rapist. Fox News subsequently noted that public records do not support either characterization. But the line worked. That is the difference between evidence and performance. I have always understood which one this building rewards.
In 2023, before any of this, I said the following on national television: "Chris Wray doesn't need a government-funded G5 jet to go to vacation. Maybe we ground that plane."
I meant every word. We should have grounded his plane. So mine wouldn't invite the comparison.
I sell merchandise. "Fight with Kash." T-shirts, hats, a children's book. The profits go to a foundation I started. The brand benefits from my position as Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. This is not a conflict of interest. A conflict requires two competing interests. I have one interest. It has never been healthier.
I told the Senate that the FBI cannot meet its mission with a five-hundred-million-dollar cut. I requested twelve billion. Two billion more than last year. In the same period I spent a million on my girlfriend's security detail, fifty thousand on a concert suite, flew a sixty-million-dollar aircraft to cover a distance shorter than most commutes, waived background checks for three political appointees with no law enforcement experience, reassigned three hundred counterterrorism agents to check green cards, gutted the unit tracking Iran's assassination program, and opened a federal investigation into a newspaper reporter for the crime of publishing a newspaper.
I told Hannity: "We are going to protect not only me and my loved ones but every American that is threatened." I meant the first seven words. The rest was institutional boilerplate. The kind of thing you say when the camera is on and the sentence needs to land somewhere that sounds like it includes other people.
I run the building.
Now I want to tell you about the water.
The week before the concert I went to Pearl Harbor. The USS Arizona. A VIP snorkel. Nine hundred sailors and Marines are entombed in that hull. They have been there since 1941. The oil still leaks. It rises to the surface in small dark rainbows that break apart when you swim through them. The water was warm. Very clear. I could see the outline of the ship's superstructure below me, the geometry of a vessel that sank with its crew inside, and I remember the water temperature was perfect and the sun was on my back and my detail was on the shore and nobody in the water asked me to justify my presence above nine hundred dead.
Recreational swimming at the Arizona is prohibited. The National Park Service said they were not involved. The Navy could not identify who authorized the outing. The logistics were coordinated by military email. A former government diver spoke to reporters anonymously. He said the access was unusual. He said it raised safety and security concerns. He spoke anonymously, the article noted, "for fear of retribution."
A man who dives for the government is afraid to describe, on the record, how I swim.
That is the climate. That is the building I run. A nineteen-year veteran stopped asking. Fifty career officials stopped working here. Three hundred counterterrorism agents stopped tracking the people who want to kill Americans. Six prosecutors stopped prosecuting. A government diver stopped talking. A reporter found her name in a database. And the oil keeps leaking from the Arizona, eighty-four years after the hull settled, surfacing in thin iridescent films that nobody is assigned to monitor because I reassigned them.
I have never been an FBI agent. I have never conducted a federal investigation. I have never built a case or flipped a witness or spent a night in a surveillance van waiting for someone dangerous to make a mistake. But I have flown a sixty-million-dollar jet to a George Strait concert. I have watched the show from a suite that cost more than most Americans earn in a year. I have swum above nine hundred dead sailors in water so clear I could see their ship. And I have ensured, through the systematic removal of everyone who might object, that no one in the building will tell you any of this is wrong.
The oil surfaces. It always surfaces. It has for eighty-four years.
I run the building. The building doesn't ask questions anymore.
Dont flirt with me . my box is trash, im scared of my body, my head game is ok, i get body cramps in any exciting position, i dont like taking my shirt off, im a pillow princess, my rack sags, i bite, my nudes are mid, im easy, my ass is flat, and i make zero moves
I got my hands on 65 hours worth of live broadcast news coverage and special reports on the MOVE bombing which occurred 41 years ago today. I produced this piece using that archival footage.
On May 13, 1985, Philadelphia police dropped a C4 explosive on the home of the @themoveorganization family at 62nd and Osage Avenue, after 500 police fired over 10,000 rounds into the home. City officials allowed the fire to burn, killing 11 people including five children, and destroying 61 homes.
Eyewitness and forensic evidence indicates that several MOVE children attempted to flee the burning home through the rear but were either shot back inside or their bullet-ridden bodies were thrown back into fire by police waiting in the alleyway.
In 2021, it was revealed UPenn and Princeton had stolen the remains of several of the children and not only conducted experiments on them but also wheeled them out on gurneys at fundraising events.
John Africa's head has never been returned and saw marks on his neck indicate foul play during an unauthorized autopsy.
No one has ever been held accountable for any of it.
In 2023, @mikeafricajr bought the house back which was originally owned by his aunt Louise James, but was seized by the City through eminent domain after the bombing and turned into a police substation. He is barred from turning the home into a memorial until he pays off the $400K mortgage, support link below.
Today we remember:
Rhonda Africa
Theresa Africa
Frank Africa
Raymond Africa
Conrad Africa
John Africa
Tree Africa (14)
Delisha Africa (13)
Netta Africa (12)
Phil Africa (12)
Tomaso Africa (9)
Ramona Africa (survivor)
Birdie Africa (survivor)
Support @moveactivistarchive
https://t.co/2eUgaIWwW1
Archival material accessed through Temple University's Digital Collections
I have armed civilians in five countries.
I wrote the cable for the sixth in September.
I am a case officer in the CIA's Near East Division. I have held this post for thirty-one years. My performance reviews describe me as "consistently exceeding expectations in partner force development." I want to be precise about what I do.
I identify civilian populations with grievances against their government. I assess which grievances are exploitable. I write a cable recommending a covert action finding. The finding goes to the president. The president signs. I receive a budget. I purchase weapons through intermediary nations who sign end-user certificates stating the weapons are for their own military.
They are not for their own military. Everyone who signs knows this. Everyone who signs has always known this.
The genius of the certificate is that it is true when signed. The weapons are for the ministry's border patrol. For twelve months, this is a fact. On month thirteen, it is not. The certificate has expired by then.
I have sat in hotel rooms in three countries while a man I will meet once signs a document stating these weapons are for his ministry's border patrol. He does not look at me. I do not look at the weapons manifest. We are finished in eleven minutes. I take the certificate. He takes the routing number. We do not shake hands.
The first time was before me. Tehran. 1953. Operation AJAX. Kermit Roosevelt did not arm civilians. He bought them. A million dollars for the whole operation. Overthrew Mossadegh in four days. Reinstalled the Shah.
The Shah lasted twenty-six years. Then came 1979. The revolution. The hostage crisis. Forty-seven years of American policy defined by a coup that cost less than a Georgetown townhouse.
I was not born yet. But that operation built my division. I inherited its funding line, its intermediary networks, its end-user certificate templates. The templates have not changed. The letterhead has.
Afghanistan. 1979 to 1989. Operation Cyclone. We provided over two billion dollars in weapons to the mujahideen. Stinger missiles. Kalashnikovs. Training manuals. I wrote three of those manuals. The one on field medicine was thorough. I was proud of it.
My performance review cited "exceptional initiative in capability development." The mujahideen bled the Soviets for a decade. I received a commendation. I rotated out.
The Taliban formed five years later. From the mujahideen. Using our weapons. Using the organizational structures we taught them. Using the Stingers we provided. They took Kabul in 1996. They hosted bin Laden. They are in power today.
We offered up to six figures per missile to buy the Stingers back. We had provided them for free. We recovered perhaps three hundred out of twenty-five hundred. The rest are still in circulation. Some ended up in Iran. This is called "program wind-down."
The field medicine manual appeared in a captured materials index in 2014. Translated into Arabic. The tourniquet chapter was unchanged. I am told the techniques remain effective. I have not asked in whose hands.
I was in Ankara by then. My cable noted the transition as a regional development. I did not write the next cable.
1991. We broadcast on CIA-funded radio for Iraqi civilians to rise against Saddam. The Shia rose. The Kurds rose. We had encouraged them. Then Saddam sent helicopter gunships. We watched. The no-fly zone did not cover helicopters. We had not specified helicopters.
This was the second time we abandoned the Kurds. The first was 1975. We armed them against Saddam on the Shah's behalf. Then the Shah made his deal with Baghdad. The Algiers Agreement. Overnight, our program ended. The Kurds were slaughtered. Henry Kissinger was asked about it. He said, "Covert action should not be confused with missionary work."
I have it framed above my desk. I have read it every morning for twenty-six years.
I was in Amman by then.
Libya. Two sentences. We armed the rebels against Gaddafi. Gaddafi died in a drainage ditch on camera. The rebels kept the weapons. The weapons migrated to Mali, to Syria, to a dozen countries we did not intend. Libya became three competing governments and open-air slave markets.
My lessons-learned contribution was four pages. I was in Doha by then.
Syria. Timber Sycamore. 2012 to 2017.
One billion dollars. The largest covert action finding since Cyclone. We trained and armed moderate rebels. The moderates defected. Sold their weapons to al-Nusra. Al-Nusra rebranded. The weapons ended up with groups we were simultaneously targeting with Predator drones.
We were arming and bombing the same people.
One of my trainees appeared in strike imagery four years after his graduation from the program. Different flag. Same Kalashnikov. His field-strip technique was correct. I had taught it to him personally. The strike was approved in eleven minutes. I did not flag the overlap. This is called "force disposition change."
Every weapon has a serial number. Every serial number traces to a purchase order. Every purchase order traces to a cable.
In 2016, a photograph appeared in a Conflict Armament Research report. I recognized the serial number prefix before I read the caption. The man holding the weapon was not a moderate rebel. The weapon was the same. The man was the same. The category had changed. The cable was mine.
I flagged this in a cable. The cable was acknowledged. The program continued for two more years. I rotated out. I was in Langley by then, writing the lessons-learned document. We produce one after every program. They all say the same thing. We have never incorporated one into the next program. We remember perfectly. The lessons are not the point. The document is the point. The document allows the next finding to say "informed by prior operations."
Page three of every lessons-learned document since 1989 recommends a blowback assessment window extending beyond the operational review cycle. I have written page three six times. It has never been incorporated into a finding. It does not need to be. It only needs to exist.
My performance review covers twelve months.
Blowback takes eighteen.
I have never been present for the consequences of my own operations. Not once in thirty-one years. I initiate. I cable. I am reviewed. I am promoted. I rotate out. The next officer inherits the aftermath. Their cable describing the deterioration becomes the intelligence justification for the next finding. That finding is assigned to someone like me. The end-user certificates look the same. The letterhead changes.
My hall file says "exceptional initiative in capability development." Six words. It does not specify which capability. It does not specify who developed it next.
I sleep well. I mention this because people assume otherwise.
I am aware of what happens to officers who speak outside channels. I am also aware that I rotate out in March.
Every fact I have stated is available in open-source reporting. I have disclosed nothing. I have only arranged.
Now Graham on Hannity. He calls it a "Second Amendment solution."
He said it without a classification marking. Without a finding. Without an end-user certificate. Without an intermediary. On Fox News. At nine PM.
I have spent thirty-one years in rooms where the fluorescent lights hum at a specific frequency and nothing is recorded. I write cables marked TOP SECRET//SI//NOFORN. I brief the Gang of Eight in a SCIF with no windows. I use phrases like "partner force enablement" and "indigenous capacity building."
Graham called it a constitutional right. On Fox News. At nine PM.
He said "there is no need for boots on the ground." He said "help is on the way." He was describing an intermediary purchase order routed through a Gulf state intelligence service with a false end-user certificate and a twelve-month shelf life before the weapons appear in hands we did not intend. He was describing my career. He did it in eleven words.
He is describing a covert action finding against a government that exists because of a covert action finding.
In my experience, senators do not describe operations on television before the finding is signed.
Iran has nearly ninety million people. A domestic security apparatus that crushed a nationwide uprising in 2022 in under three months. Mandatory sentences for weapons possession. The logistics would require every intermediary network I have ever built, simultaneously, for years.
I have never written a finding for a population this size. The models do not scale. I noted this in my cable. It was acknowledged.
Afghanistan was twenty-five million. Five years from first Stinger to flag change. I have not been asked for an Iranian timeline. Timelines become findings. Findings become budgets. Budgets are reviewed in twelve months.
He said it like it was a sentence. It is a career.
I know because it is mine.
My last cable was sent in September. It was acknowledged.
My review will cover the first twelve months. I will not be present for month eighteen.
I will retire with a full pension next year. I have a certificate on my wall from the Director of National Intelligence. It says "For Exceptional Service to the Nation."
It does not specify which nation benefited.
Above it, the Kissinger quote. I have read it every morning for twenty-six years. It has never once been wrong.
I rotate out in March.