Always apologize to the authorities.
What the French call cache-cache.
There are two great series of propaganda of which I’m aware.
One is the James Bond franchise.
The other is Twin Peaks.
External intelligence (I/O).
Internal intelligence (RB).
I might suck at chess, but so did Napoleon.
Admitting one does not really understand does not have to lead to abject sellout.
Certain information is classified for a reason.
It was hard to come by.
It does not exist in an open source.
And so I try real hard to imagine an honorable employee of the CIA.
Maybe somebody like “Buzzy” Krongard who forgets to unpack a couple of Walther PPKs from his overnight bag before heading to the airport.
Could happen to the best of us.
But why A.B.?
Why the lapse??
9/11: where are they now???
When we imagine external intelligence, we might think of a world completely ruled by consequentialism and Realpolitik.
We like to think of Daniel Craig. Sean Connery. Roger Moore.
We like to think of our operatives as protectors.
But my guess is they perform some of the ugliest jobs on the planet.
For the state!
The dear, sweet NSA knows every book I’ve bought (unless I paid cash).
Knows my library withdrawals.
So I might as well cite Burckhardt.
The State as a Work of Art.
Seems pretty self-explanatory (if fanciful).
But German can be slippery.
And so we come to,
War as a Work of Art.
The “dilettante” Machiavelli gets the usual translation (Art of War), but not Burckhardt.
Not in my edition.
Imagination lets me conceive of a good FBI agent.
Like Coleen Rowley.
These, perhaps, are the forward projections of Special Agent Dale Cooper.
But let’s get deeper.
The turf war.
Two agencies of the same government.
Working at cross purposes.
I can easily imagine a unique relationship.
You don’t investigate our wholesale illegal activities,
and we don’t disappear your agents.
So that the CIA is beyond the law.
Perhaps it must be that way. Beethoven might even resign it.
But it is naïve to think of the FBI as merely an investigative entity.
They too get creative.
In Twin Peaks we have an honorable man. One of the best and brightest.
Doing a job. Innocent as a dove, but wise as a serpent.
When dealing with Log Lady, one gets crosswise with Elf Power and Stereolab.
Ending up, Gus the Mynah Bird with the Candy Bar Head.
There is an information hierarchy.
Pertinent to all forms of intelligence gathering and interpretation.
Data–>Info–>Knowledge (–> Wisdom)
The final stage is not optional, but it is elusive.
It is the most valuable.
It’s the part that says, “Hey, CIA man (or woman)…don’t take The Fugs too seriously.”
It’s also the fine line between bravery and stupidity (practically the same phenomenon) which inspires Sherilyn Fenn to smoke a fag in the closet. [Err…]
Nothing to lose. Fearless.
And what if such fire is married to morals? Ethics?
We’re no saints, but we do a lot of selfless stuff.
And yet we spout our shit and muck up the mission of consummate professionals.
Two meanings of intelligence.
We don’t have the intelligence (because we are civilian nobodies…combing the net for OSINT).
But we have intelligence.
It may not be Ivy League.
But it’s relentless.