Reality Winner take all

Tomorrow’s news today.


This just in.

An employee of the U.S. National Security Administration (NSA) has become the first leaker to be prosecuted under President Trump.

But hers is no ordinary story.


Perhaps she is the new Mata Hari.

More likely, a modern Patty Hearst.

The above picture is of 25-year-old Reality Winner.

Yes, that’s her name.

An NSA linguist, she is fluent in Dari, Pashto, and Farsi.


But don’t let the doe eyes fool you.

She fucking hates Donald Trump.

What does she like?

Bernie Sanders.

Vegan food.

Black Lives Matter.

So basically, a brainwashed social justice warrior (SJW) somehow got a TS/SCI security clearance (or perhaps a TS/SAP clearance).

Because we need linguists.

We’re still in Afghanistan (where the predominant languages are Dari Persian and Pashto [both of which she speaks/writes]).

And we’ve been eying Iran for invasion since the Neocons were kicking out the jams during the Bush junta.

So Farsi is very valuable to our national security state.

Farsi, of course, is another word for Persian.

Thus, Farsi and Dari are not that far apart.


What do we know about this beautiful, young, highly-intelligent (yet brainwashed) former NSA employee?

Let’s let Google (NSA) and “fake news” tell the meta-story for us.

Google “reality winner”:


-Mediaite (whatevs…)

-The Atlantic (liberal trash)

-The Guardian (mostly bollocks)

-Mashable (who give a fuck)

-The Daily Beast (666 of media…really…Chelsea Clinton’s on board of directors)

-Fast Company (that shite rag which called BLM one of the most innovative “companies” [sic] not so long ago [follow the fucking money])

-The New York Times (Carlos Slim’s blog)

-Business Insider (no thanks)

-Ryan J. Reilly on Twitter (no thanks, fucking HuffPo)

-Heavy (lite)

-NBC News (hell no)

-CNN (is ISIS)

-blog.erratasec (nice click bait, but disappointing)

-Washington Examiner (no idea)



The Washington Times 🙂

Sure, it’s a Moonie rag, but they have unequivocally surpassed The Washington Post recently.

[Sousa would be aghast]

So there it is.

A bare-bones version of the story.

The Liberal media, of course, is painting Reality Winner as a hero.


And those doe eyes almost get you.

So innocent.

So pure.

And yet, she beat Reza Aslan to the punch by calling Trump a “piece of shit” long ago.

piece of shit


I’ve spoken of her as an NSA employee.

That’s not entirely accurate.

She was a contractor.

Exit the system.

Earn more money.

[very patriotic!]

And she was in the Air Force.


Pretty buff for a snowflake 🙂

But seriously…

Here’s what we need to know:

what did she leak?

We know from the above article that she was caught.

We know ” that a news outlet ratted her out (The Intercept?).

We know she walked out of a SCIF with a photocopied TS document.

We know how they caught her.

She fucked up with the printer.

But how can we get the truth when the only sources are fakers like CNN?

Yeah, CNN has been doing this for a long time.

I guess we have to wade into the liberal propaganda quagmire and try to see if any truth whatsoever has been preserved.


Namaste 🙂

Let’s give The Intercept a shot (even though I think Snowden is bogus).

[or, rather, a spy wrapped in a truther wrapped in a matryoshka of bacon]

I’m beginning to think Reality Winner (sounds like an op) is a deep state stunt…and Trump (and Attorney General Sessions) called their bluff by hauling her in.

In other words, the deep state was BEGGING the FBI to arrest her.

She was not just sloppy, she was comically daft.

That’s because the deep state WANTED Trump to nab her.

She is a hero (heroine) operation.

An aspiring “Wonder Woman” (just as the movie is making waves).

But does the deep state have any plan beyond that?

I kinda doubt it.

Judging by their ineffectual “resistance” movement, this is probably as far as they got.

They figured Trump wouldn’t fall for the trap.

And he didn’t.

Because a trap must have teeth.

This trap is all gums.

The NSA report ostensibly leaked by Reality Winner is the definition of LAME.

Back to The Intercept article.

And, oh yeah…aren’t I supposed to be a film critic?


Apparently the Obama admin found that the Kremlin engaged in propaganda “to denigrate Secretary Clinton” 🙂


Oh my God…

They’re killing me.

Denigrate Secretary Clinton?!?

A turd doesn’t need dirtying!

Only, perhaps, a magnifying glass.

But we didn’t need a microscopic view of the shit Hillary Clinton represented.

We smelled it a mile away.

[as even John Podesta said, “urine, cabbage, and farts”…yes…that’s how he characterized the scent of his boss, Secretary Clinton…during the campaign {according to WikiLeaks documents}]

She was as fake as the Muslim anti-terror protest staged yesterday by CNN (see above video).

She was as fake as the “live from Saudi Arabia” coverage CNN went with during the 90-91 Gulf War (see other above video).

If you fell for Hillary (by voting for her), then I’d advise you never to leave the house again…because, brother (or sister), YOU’RE GONNA GET MUGGED!!!

And so, you might be saying, do I believe in the veracity of ANYTHING AT ALL which is propagated by the global news media?

Well, perhaps.

But certainly not in “Reality” Winner.



[another bad CIA creation…in the mold of Snowden…with a twist…nice try]


The Conversation [1974)

By 1974, TITANPOINTE was complete.

Which brings us to Francis Ford Coppola for the first time.

spoo SPOOK!

Where AT&T is LITHIUM.

Briefly dominating Drudge Report.

And then gone.

“Up on the twenty-ninth floor
Up on the twenty-ninth floor”

Four locks.  And an alarm.  A bottle of wine.

No phone.  Happy 44th birthday.

Not happy about this.

Gene Hackman in this masterpiece.

From Antonioni we got Blowup eight years previous.

But this time it is all about getting a fat sound.


Is it?

It is a love for one’s work.

Like Gregg Popovich.


Gene Hackman.

But scarier.  Like 33 Thomas Street.

SMPTE for the devil…seems.


Must have a mix.  Phasing.

Louder.  In phase.

Knock.  Out of phase.

Urgently.  For young Teri Garr.

It doesn’t work.

This work.

It bleeds you of life electricity.

Spooking yourself.

On the trolley.

Snapping synapse line.  Electrical cable overhead.

And power down.  Stuck.  To think.  In silhouette.

Producing hit intelligence.

But not really thinking too much about the consumers.

Until the cris de coeur.

Or crise cardiaque.

When you are the only one between groundbreaking intel and the world at large.

And you are hearing it (“getting” it) for the first time.

When your job becomes an obsession.

Because of a dedication to excellence.

His famous gray plastic raincoat.

We think Manfred Eicher.  And François Musy.

Long nights going through the takes.

Full take.

All tape.

Whispering “conscience”…in that Swiss French we know so well.

Gently coated with cigars.

Shirley Feeney is here.

Cindy Williams.

But no Laverne.

The opening take so slow.

New Orleans jazz in many reverbed permutations.

Slightly shifting like Debussy’s clouds.

Or the light on Monet’s haystacks.

Operationally triangulated.

In a sonic crosshairs.

Most satisfying is the breaking up.

The broken telegraph gibberish of the rhythmic signal skating on intelligibility.

As if he’s heading to 26 Federal Plaza.

But it’s more corporate espionage.

Risk management.


A masterpiece of sound film.

Which emphasizes that which is usually an afterthought.

Sonic activity.

Signaling intelligence.

We wait to decode the universe on our doorstep.





Žert [1969)

It would be, perhaps, best to list this as a Slovak film.


We always talk about Prague.

But not enough about Bratislava.

Yet all of this would make little difference were this film not notable.

And it is quite notable.

The direction by Jaromil Jireš is admirable.

He plays with time.  A very unusual montage of flashbacks.

Haunted.  Haunting.  Hunted by communism.

This, then, would be a subversive film.

To show the corruption within Czechoslovakia.

To show the nightmare of reeducation.

The term is never named as such, but that’s what it is.

Punitive military service.

The soldiers with no weapons.

Because their country doesn’t trust them with such.

In the mines.

On the ground.


Hup hup hup.

Power trip of professional army in service to socialism.

Trotsky is forbidden.

And so is humor.

Don’t make your jokes too pointed.

There’s no squirming out of the fact that you stand in opposition to the ethos of your government.


It may not be a momentous occasion to realize that literature is being made.

For it skips under your nose as mere nonsensical rubbish.

Poppycock.  Hogwash.  Eyewash.

Tropes and memes and drupelets hanging low.  Evolving necks.  Giraffes.

I am of two Yiddish species:

schlub and schmuck.

Unattractive.  Fool.

Me and Josef Somr.  Who lives!  Age 82.

A masterful performance.  As real as my daily routine.

Shirt coming untucked.

I have kept my hair, but his combover parallels my gut (his too).  Sucked in.

Beware of jokes.

You are being watched.

Your letters are being intercepted.

And you will have to answer for your words.

Just what exactly did you mean by, “…” ???

Well, this is Milan Kundera with the story.

And I rebelled all the way.

I drew Baudelaire with lightening bolts.  And chartreuse dreams.

Kundera lives!  Age 87.

Born in Brno. (!)

But let’s back to this love-hate.

Not Mintzberg.

At the same time.

Alternating.  A constant election.


I will achieve 17,000-word vocabulary.  Just you watch.

I almost hate my town too.  I know.

Was I imprisoned?


But I lost music.

Like Ludvík.

The name is significant.

Like lost hearing.

And so the clarinet is indispensable.

I mention Jana Dítětová because she was from Plzeň.

Pilsen.  Pillsbury.

The selfish gene.

Tricked.  Objectified.  MILF revenge reified.

Pithy memetics.


Markéta is significant.

LazarováTwo years previous.

A permanent opium war of mankind.

Opiate of the masses.  Asses.  Snippets of military abuse.

You’ve never seen…like this.

We can still insult liberalism.  And neoliberalism.  And neoconservatism.

We can still find Starbucks artless.  And Subway.

But Wal-Mart passes over to kitsch.  Of which Kundera would understand.

Like Warhol meets Flavin.

All that fluorescence.


Europe endless.


Dip the waves.

Coyoacán borough of Mexico City.  D.F.  Day effay.

Trotsky died the same year Conlon Nancarrow moved to Mexico.


And Nancarrow would make Mexico City his home.

Las Águilas.  With his Ampico player pianos.

Ludvík is expelled from his teaching position like Dr. James Tracy.

History is always with us.

We see the corruption of good intentions.

Communism.  Socialism.

Teachers of Marxism.

How the country had slid.

And Věra Křesadlová eats her cotton candy.  Stunning.

We wonder why the movie couldn’t have been about her.

But we needed the schlub/schmuck.

And the attempted suicide with laxatives.

Which is to say, there are far more than six stories in narrative history.

Bollocks Schenkerian analysis.



Ucho [1970)

A banned film.

From communist Czechoslovakia.

Party as nightmare (like O slavnosti a hostech).

But different.

Walls on all sides.


As if Jeremy Bentham was tomorrow appointed head of the NSA.

From the single, centralized watchtower.

Stares out the embalmed ego of Bentham.


It’s just a skeleton stuffed with hay.  Dressed in Bentham’s clothes.

Like the panopticon.

A straw man prison.

Dear friends, I know of no film which conveys the horror of the 21st century.

Quite like this gem of resistance against totalitarianism.

This was the underbelly of communism.

The “evil empire” of which Reagan spoke.

His words seem funny today.  His unscientific, hypocritical words.

Because the Red Scare in the United States was typified by the same methods on display.



Which I fear will not subside anytime soon.

Nor has this wave even crested.

“Mass surveillance doesn’t work,” Mr. Snowden wrote. “This bill will take money and liberty without improving safety.”

Finally The New York Times prints something worthwhile.

And even Hillary Clinton’s “History made.” ad can’t deflate the importance of Snowden’s words.

And so if you want to see the 12-tone paranoia of the communist “big brother” state (now that we are living in a “capitalist” big brother state), I would heartily recommend The Ear by director Karel Kachyňa.

It was banned for 19 years in Czechoslovakia.

Because it got real close to the truth.

It painted the communist party leaders as a bunch of jerks.

It portrayed the constant suspicion upon bureaucrats as a living nightmare.

The Ear.  Maybe some HUMINT at the party.

But largely this film deals with SIGINT (if author Jeffrey T. Richelson can be trusted).

The Ear deals primarily with what Richelson calls “clandestine SIGINT” in his book The U.S. Intelligence Community.

What we encounter in Ucho are “the oldest of these devices” (viz. “traditional audio surveillance devices”).

Wikipedia does a passable job outlining this area of inquiry in the article “Covert listening device”.

But dear friends…describing it so matter-of-factly does no justice to the strain which omnipresent surveillance puts on largely innocent people.

And therefore The Ear is a film which shows the psychological toll that governments exact when they make ethics secondary.

What we get from director Karel Kachyňa is the portrait of a society (his society) which assumes all citizens to be guilty until proven innocent.

This is ostensibly the opposite of the American system, but today’s Amerika is merely the other side of the coin:  same pervasion of surveillance (even if it is “capitalist”).

My hypothesis is that “free market” America has come to all-to-closely resemble the regimes it fought to defeat.  Those “victories”, then, were hollow.  We have appropriated the worst, most tortuous means of our past enemies.

But Kachyňa has another message for us in this masterpiece.

In such upside-down societies, promotion might be the worst form of punishment.

Beware, my coopted friends.