Kamikaze 89 [1982)

Here is a strange case.

I thought I was watching a movie by Rainer Werner Fassbinder.

The first I had ever seen.

But I was not.

And I still haven’t seen a Fassbinder movie per se.

This movie was directed by the late- Wolf Gremm.

Gremm might be most well-known for the 1980 film Fabian.

For that movie, Gremm adapted a work of Erich Kästner.

Kästner was always a bridesmaid and never a bride.

Nominated four times for the Nobel in literature, Kästner nevertheless was an important writer in that he used cinematic techniques in his literature.

Think about that for a second.

What might that mean?

Jump cuts, anyone?

‘Tis now that we pay homage to the great Jean-Paul Belmondo.

AND to my favorite drummer ever:  Charlie Watts.

Back to Kästner.

The Nazis burned his books.

These book burnings were instigated by (Psaki) Goebbels.

Kästner may not have really been a man of much integrity.

He wrote for UfA in 1942 under the pseudonym Berthold Bürger.

But you may know Kästner most for a Hollywood adaption of one of his children’s books:  The Parent Trap.

Made twice.

Which brings us to our film by Wolf Gremm.

It’s true:  Gremm and Fassbinder were close friends.

And I was tricked because Fassbinder is the all-consuming star of Gremm’s masterpiece Kamikaze 89 (alternately Kamikaze 1989).

Like a German version of Godard’s Alphaville.

Fassbinder is 100% Lemmy Caution.

But this whole thing needed a premise.

And that story was provide by Swedish author Per Wahlöö.

Before there was Stieg Larsson, there was Per Wahlöö.

Active between 1965 and 1975, and focusing on his character detective Martin Beck (a Stockholm policeman), Wahlöö collaborated with Maj Sjöwall on ten novels featuring Beck.

Like Erich Kästner, Wahlöö and Sjöwall were leftists.  

Communists.

Marxists.

Not unusual in Sweden.

You will find the same idealistic naïveté in the biographical details of Steig Larsson.

Gremm’s film did well as Fantasporto in Portugal.

And for good reason.

Because it is a fucking masterpiece!

The soundtrack is even by Tangerine Dream.

Edgar Froese.

Lester Bangs would have been proud.

Bangs died about three months after this film came out.

We see Brigitte Mira.

We see Nicole Heesters.

Someone briefly gets naked.

We might even see Fassbinder’s junk briefly.

I’ve gotta hand it to Xaver Schwarzenberger.

This film is stunning.

It pops!

Like a more punk version of Nicolas Roeg’s work on Truffaut’s Fahrenheit 451.

Schwarzenberger was (and is) perhaps the equivalent of Godard’s Raoul Coutard.

So what?

The world, in general, has not heard of Wolf Gremm.

So this film must be discussed in relation to Fassbinder.

Was Fassbinder as good a director as he was an actor?

I don’t know.

Was Fassbinder as good a director as Gremm?

I don’t know.

Did Fassbinder ever make a film as good as the masterpiece Kamikaze 89?

I don’t know.

Something else should be noted.

Fassbinder himself died two months after Kamikaze 89 was released.

Which is to say, a month before Lester Bangs.

Let’s talk about New German Cinema.

I have devoted plenty of time to my favorite (the Nouvelle Vague aka French New Wave).

But I do not recall ever having broached the topic of Neuer Deutscher Film.

I will say this.

I think Werner Herzog may be the most overrated filmmaker of all-time.

Right next to Tarantino.

I hate to fucking admit it, but Tarantino (whom I hate) has WAY more talent than Herzog.

But hey:  my favorite director ever is Godard.

We first join Fassbinder about 1974 with Ali:  Fear Eats the Soul.

Eight years later, Fassbinder would be dead.

At age 37.

From a cocaine/barbiturate overdose.

I have lived seven years longer than Fassbinder.

Fassbinder crammed his career into his 30s.

Bangs died of an (accidental?) overdose of an analgesic opioid (Darvon), Valium, and cough syrup.

Bangs was 33.

Someone else important died at that age.

Bangs had a great mustache.

Fassbinder had a weird beard.

A nasty, seven-day stubble.

But Fassbinder fucking had style!

1975 saw him come out with Fox and His Friends.

Fassbinder was married for two years.

He then divorced.

I feel that.

Ingrid Caven.

A beautiful lady.

They say.

Hanna Schygulla.

Godard’s Passion.

1982.

There’s a reason I like Fassbinder.

I think.

Because Fassbinder liked Godard.

The Merchant of Four Seasons.

This precedes my earlier introduction.

1971.

The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant.

1972.

Fassbinder was bisexual.

He bought Günther Kauffman, who appears in Kamikaze 89, four Lamborghinis over the period of one year.

“calculatedly provocative”, they called him.

A verbal kamikaze.

I feel that.

The Tenderness of Wolves.

1973.

As actor.

I have focused on films available in the United States.

On iTunes.

I am.

Pauly Deathwish.

Twenty years coming.

10/11.

-PD

 

Rod Rosenstein and His Dirty Tricks Squad [2021)

https://t.me/linwoodspeakstruth/165

This is not James Clapper.

https://rumble.com/vdf4nn-james-clapper-interrogation-2.html

And this film review covers not only the first link (which Lin Wood first posted to Telegram on January 24, 2021), but all other snippets of the same sessions which Lin Wood has posted to date on Telegram.

I admit.

It sounds a hell of a lot like James Clapper.

At first, when I heard of this clip circulating, I thought, “There’s no way in hell that James Clapper is being ‘interrogated.'”

And that is likely true.

Because this isn’t James Clapper.

But as I listened to the Rumble clip (which purports that the voice speaking is that of James Clapper) I started to believe it was (or could be) him.

I will say this:  both Clapper and the voice speaking have very similar audible mannerisms…particularly the vocal cadence they share.

This is what led me on a hunt to find the truth.

My verdict is this:  for one reason or another (whether nefarious or otherwise), someone has misled people to think that these interviews are of James Clapper.

How did they mislead?

Well, first of all, they slyly edited out all clips which have details that would contradict Clapper’s biography.

For good measure, they also sped up the audio (for some inexplicable reason).

If for nefarious purposes, a person or persons may be trying to set the groundwork to undercut the information in the future (by planting the false notion that the messenger was Clapper).

If for productive purposes (in a vein similar to QAnon), shock value may have been used to capture the imagination of the populace and FORCE THEM TO DIG.

Whatever the purpose (and whoever the authors of this deception), it has caused me to dig.

And the information is important.

So I am going to parse it for you in executive summary.

What we almost certainly have here is a federal agent (whistleblower).

Is that Lin Wood interviewing him?

I think not.

Lin’s Georgia accent sounds nothing like the interviewer.

So let’s get down to the facts (and assertions of this whistleblower).

First of all, let’s get our sourcing and timeline straight.

Lin Wood began dropping these video clips on January 19, 2021:  the day before the inauguration.

The first video covers:

Epstein.

Supreme Court Justice Roberts.

Epstein “helped” Roberts with his adopted children.

Children from Wales.

Channeled through Ireland.

Epstein then facilitated adoption.

Children as a commodity.

Compromising people.

“Children are the payment and the dirt and the control.”

The FBI has copies of the videos.

Rod Rosenstein.

Shawn Henry (FBI).

Shaun Bridges (Secret Service).

The second video covers:

Pence and his two lovers (and his younger ones).

Surveillance of Roberts’ children.

The abuse of Roberts’ children.

The children were “loaned out” for these different groups.

And it was surveilled.

Plots to murder judges.

Set up by FBI.

False-flag.

They were going to use a “sovereign citizen” group.

“Obama didn’t want any terrorism unless it was white terrorism.”

FBI had infiltrated and armed and instigated.

Divorced fathers with a grudge against the court system.

Plot.

Attacks on the Supreme Court.

Roberts was aware.

Explosives.

Automatic weapons.

Rocket launchers.

Lisa Monaco was a target.

Video three covers:

Supreme Court was target.

Homeland Security were overwhelmed.

Called in FBI.

DoJ picked up whistleblower.

Martha Coakley.

Groups to assassinate federal judges:  1/3 of group made up of “sovereign citizen” patsies and 2/3 made up of FBI.

Whistleblower and his wife were going to be killed.

Plan foiled.

Plans written out.

Maps.

Would have been in the first year of Hillary’s Presidency.

She was not supposed to lose.

Roberts was helping.

He wanted to pick new judges (for those assassinated).

Purpose was to ban firearms and pack Supreme Court.

Antonin Scalia

Video four covers:

Scalia was biggest threat.

Scalia found out about plans and went to White House.

Scalia was taken out.

Cibolo Ranch.

Temp worker.

Servants.

Group there hunting.

DMSO.

Poison.

Dimethyl sulfoxide.

Fairly inert chemical.

Mix with poison.

Why found with pillow over face.

Struggling to breathe.

Can be mixed with fentanyl, etc.

Goes directly into skin.

Eric Holder as replacement.

Hillary and Obama knew about it.

Rod has an intense hatred of Hillary.

He’s only fond of himself.

Running The Hammer system through Baltimore.

Which brings us to our title film.

It covers:

how the whistleblower started working directly with Rod Rosenstein in Baltimore.

FBI would come for corroboration.

Undercover nature.

Terrorist.

Domestic terrorism.

Whistleblower was fairly well concealed.

Dirty Tricks Squad.

Baltimore.

“This is where they were using Hammer, Sunrise, Sunset, things like that.”

To illegally spy on people.

Attempt to corrupt judges.

They concentrated on corrupting people.

Under the guise of a CCIPS (DoJ) operation.

Run out of Fort Washington, Maryland.

[McInerney marker]

Illegally compromise people.

Illegally wiretap.

Break into computers.

Plant, reverse, change information.

Change emails.

Things of that nature.

Judges, Roberts, Pence.

Whistleblower squashed.

Went to DHS.

With pile of evidence.

Made its way back to FBI/DoJ.

Contacted Devin Nunes.

Whistleblower tried to warn Trump about Rod Rosenstein.

Rod, Pence, Paul Ryan.

Core of group.

Rod was “brilliant legal mind”.

Operational name at beginning was Run Silent Run Deep.

[1958 film with Lancaster and Gable about being passed up for promotion]

Pence hated Trump.

Had taken his slot.

Mitt Romney was also involved.

Trump was outsider.

Had not paid dues.

Pence was their mole inside.

Leverage.

Surveillance from way back.

2013 range.

FISA warrants.

Rod wanted VP slot.

Paul Ryan also wanted it.

So did Romney.

Vice Presidential slot under Pence.

With Trump removed under 25th Amendment.

Leverage.

Pence homosexual.

Many adults.

Throughout his time in Congress.

As Governor, felt more free.

One 20 years his junior.

One half his age.

Would introduce others.

Younger and younger people.

15 year olds.

13 year olds.

Rod and Roberts were able to get FISA warrants because.

Younger people supplied by Epstein.

Because Epstein was an intelligence asset.

When he was in USA, FISA warrant used.

FBI would not save the child.

Was more important for them to have the leverage.

Operation directed by Rosenstein.

Dirty Tricks Squad.

Nickname.

Rod.

Shawn Henry (FBI).

Shaun Wesley Bridges (Secret Service).

Joseph Rosati (DEA).

Al Borshack ? (ATF).

Greg Utz (DEA).

Another group in Fort Washington.

[McInerney marker]

For the real illegal stuff.

Illegal communications, hacking, phone tapping.

Main focus: Federal judges.

Compromising people.

Planting information.

Planting child porn.

Leverage.

100s of cases.

Plead to lesser charge.

Forfeit money.

Percentage skimmed.

Shaun Bridges.

His speciality.

#1 expert on computer forensics.

Secret Service.

Hacked Obama’s BlackBerry for fun.

Hacked Obama daughters’ phones.

A violent person.

Drinker.

Arrogant.

All about the money.

Hack people.

Steal info.

Sell intel.

Bridges and Bitcoin.

In prison.

Holds several passports.

Will disappear to Argentina or Colombia.

Al Borshack?

ATF.

Retired.

A nasty piece of work.

Illegal gun running for Fast and Furious.

Made sure paperwork stayed clean.

Serial numbers.

Gun dealer.

Lots of disposable money.

Lots of cash.

Lives very well.

Borshack and Rosati both divorce their wives.

As Rosenstein started falling out of favor as DAG.

Paid off house.

Borshack.

Gave wife 600k.

Custom van with road race bikes.

Has watercraft and cars.

Never has a problem finding cash.

Helped supply the firearm for Seth Rich.

Joseph Rosati.

DEA.

Steroid freak.

Violent, nasty, lying person.

Cases where he added drugs.

Always the cowboy.

Had to swoop in with the big bust.

Sued many times.

Over and over again.

From defendants and agents.

Borshack involved in Seth Rich.

Rosati brought in MS-13.

Rosati also brought in Kevin Doherty?

Wannabe.

USMC.

Gopher.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/local/public-safety/disgruntled-ex-employee-of-conspiracy-theorist-admits-shooting-him/2018/12/03/e5df4478-f719-11e8-8c9a-860ce2a8148f_story.html

Jack Burkman.

Borshack and Rosati.

“Fishing”.

Local version of Fast and Furious.

Like a game to them.

Thought it was funny.

Rosati poisons.

Hot shots.

Pure drugs.

Done to informants.

Bragged.

Pills.

Pharmaceutical.

Pharmacy fraud.

As DEA agent.

Pharmacy inspections once a month.

Short prescriptions.

Massive amounts of opioids.

Laundering pills.

He’s a piece of crap.

Big bodybuilder.

Cousin with same face.

Bank fraud.

Scams.

Anything for money.

Calling as a phony DEA agent.

Package intercepted.

Drugs.

Drug precursors.

But it you pay a fee, it will never get here.

He was point man for complaints.

If anything came back, it would go to him anyway.

Payphone near work.

Payphone near house.

Burner phone.

People recorded with app.

Real agents shot as a result.

He got his own agents shot.

Maryland mafia.

Conowingo Pizza.

Conowingo.

Route 1.

Maryland.

Little Tony.

Big Tony.

New Jersey.

New York.

Drugs.

Untouchable.

Rosati’s steady supplier.

Heroin for Baltimore and D.C.

Rosati can give them intelligence.

Rosati is always skimming.

They will sell what he skims.

Opioids.

Softball.

Nonprofit.

Shawn Henry (FBI).

He’s just nasty.

Dirty Tricks Squad.

Strzok.

At CrowdStrike now.

Criminal.

John Roberts.

Shawn Henry.

FBI.

False flag people.

Roberts knew.

Provided FISA warrants.

Roberts provided intelligence.

Sharyl Attkisson.

Next video:

The death of Seth Rich.

Rod Rosenstein.

WikiLeaks.

Seth Rich downloaded a lot of info.

Downloaded everything he could.

DNC, Hillary, Bowser, Brazile…

They were worried.

Rod was worried.

Intended to be a robbery.

Ended up being a murder.

DEA.

Gang specialist.

MS-13.

Thumb drive switched.

Convincing, but didn’t expose Rod.

Brazile at hospital before Seth Rich was brought in.

They wanted to recover the thumb drive.

Next video:

Rosenstein.

FBI op.

Ghost Stories.

Heavy surveillance on known Russian assets within the U.S.

Russian Reset.

Hillary.

Obama/Biden.

Cancelled Ghost Stories.

Rod.

Shaun Bridges was taking money.

Bitcoin.

Rod put Sean Wesley Bridges in jail.

[Extortion 17 marker…Tik Tok…]

Terre Haute.


That concludes a brief overview of the videos on Lin Wood’s Telegram account which feature the blurry-faced whistleblower.

Judging by his level of detail and familiarity with certain aspects of his testimony (as well as his passion level rising while recounting certain aspects of the Dirty Tricks Squad), I would guess that the whistleblower was a DEA agent.

God bless him.

It’s not Clapper.

Any connection to Coomer?

Tik Tok mystery man.

“Find out who I am.”

Real name?

Not an Extortion 17 casualty.

Court documents re: Shaun Wesley Bridges and Rod Rosenstein?

Any Coomer connection to Fort Washington facility?

Why did McInerney say that Hammer and Scorecard was at Fort Washington?

Corroboration.

UPDATE. ENTIRE SET OF INTERVIEWS TRANSCRIBED:

FULL-Transcript-of-Whistleblower-Interview

-PD

National Lampoon’s Vacation [1983)

Hello, dear friends 🙂

Perhaps you thought I was dead?

I certainly FELT dead…off and on.

And so hopefully this is a true return.

Many months.

Stops and starts.

I was reminded just tonight of the appendectomy I had one year ago.

What a blessing to have received urgent medical care.

But I never would have known at that particular time (upon my first and only self-directed trip to an emergency room) that my appendix needed attention had it not been for my anxiety.

Horrible anxiety.

Debilitating.

I sought medical help for extraordinarily high anxiety.

And the prognosis?

“You need to have your appendix removed.” 🙂

Not exactly what I was hoping to hear.

But I made it through.

My first and only surgery.

Praise God.

And I powered through.

If you will remember, it was a mere three weeks before my graduation with an MBA.

Three more weeks I had to push.

Fresh out of the hospital.

I had to hunker down each day and research.

Study.

Write.

Churn out papers.

PowerPoint presentations.

Research solar power.

Water purification.

The Maghreb.

Sertão.

Sanhedrin.

Sahara.

MENA.

Middle East and North Africa.

Not to be confused with Mena, Arkansas (sniffy woe).

Presentations.

Transhumanism.

Ivan Raszl (well, not yet).

How Hillary ripped off her campaign insignia:

transhumanism

Neither here nor there.

But suffice to say Ray Kurzweil.  Jeremy Rifkin.  Zoltan Istvan.

Bad dudes.

And by this calculus a commodius vicus back to Elon Musk and environs.

Yes, I am back.

Back to that blabbering drivel.

That dithering dithyrambic style you know and love.

And I am fighting.

Not just anxiety, but drug addiction.

Prescription medicine.

It’s what happens when we max out our dosages.

We take as prescribed (more or less).

We take the right amount.

But the “as needed” turns into “needed all the time”.

And so I have been blessed to recently receive psychological help.

For anxiety.

Not my first time (big surprise), but the first time I’ve had a real counselor.

Someone who cares.

Someone who’s qualified.

Someone who gives a shit.

Someone with the chops to help me attack anxiety.

My cousin died.

It scared the shit out of me.

43.

Heart attack.

Three years older than me.

Fuck.

Yeah…

And then I magically was prescribed heart medicine.

On top of cholesterol medicine.

Real fucking fun.

All of this shit freaked me out pretty heavily.

The death of my cousin was a supremely shocking occurrence.

Was I next?

Was I going to wake up and find myself dead???

Well, fear not, dear friends.

Yes.

During the course of my therapy, my shrink deduced that I was indeed addicted to multiple medications.

I didn’t really realize my addiction for what it was.

I knew I was tethered to my medicines, but I had no perspective on the matter.

And so we started slow.

Hey.  How ’bout not taking that third of a sleeping pill to relax…hours before bedtime, fuckface?

Ok.

And hey.  How ’bout you get to bedtime and maybe you only take half a sleeping pill?

Sleep.

Sleep was the first fix.

You gotta have a bedtime.

Be your own army sergeant.

Pick your time.

A “lights out” time.

And stick to it.

Every damn night.

Midnight.

Lights out.

It took awhile.

I wanted to remain with the world.

Wanted to stay up-to-date.

On the off chance that some kind word would make my soul bloom.

And set an alarm, you lazy moron 🙂

8 a.m.

Ok.

Better than TWO P.M. 🙂

Set that fucking thing.

And WAKE UP.

You’re tired?

Too fucking bad.

Now what???

You stay awake for the next 16 hours, that’s what!

So when midnight rolls around again, you’re pretty tired.

But you get a second wind.

So you push it.

And you gradually rack up weeks of 6 hours.

6 1/2 hours.

On average.

But the goal is 8.

Not 7.  Not 9.

8.

After WEEKS of this shit, this finally settled into a cradle.

A groove.

The string settled on the nut.

Or the bridge.

Notch.

Sleep.  Nutrition.  Exercise.

The “holy trinity” of psychological health.

I had been an insomniac for decades.

A pro musician.

Starting gigs at 1 a.m. in New Orleans.

Fucking crazy.

But now I have an MBA.

And I need to straighten the fuck up.

Sleep came.

Slowly.

Tired as fuck.

Torturous.

But you gotta FORCE YOURSELF to stay awake.

Every damn day.

Finally, these past few days I am getting 8 hours.

Was it a month of sleep deprivation?

Six weeks?

Probably.

But it was worth it.

A hard-earned victory.

Nutrition.

Fine.

Eat boring.

Eat country vittles.

Be good.

Eat your fruits and vegetables.

Don’t go for the dozen glazed donuts.

Or raspberry jelly donuts.

I know you can eat a whole dozen glazed by yourself.

But don’t fucking do it.

It’s nasty.

Disgusting.

You don’t need to be in that mindset.

And exercise.

First thing in the morning.

Walk.

Hey.  How ’bout you double your exercise amount, dipshit?

Ok.

Walk in the evening too.

Twice a day.

And how ’bout STANDING UP when you feel a panic attack coming on.

Yeah, that’s right:  get out of bed.

Get on your feet.

Don’t ball up into the fetal position.

Don’t hide your head under the covers.

Don’t wait for the panic attack to pass.

No more being a bitch to benzodiazepines.

Time to breathe.

Big breath in.

Throw back those shoulders.

Chest out.

Tighten the butt.

Lower back.

Stand up straight.

Hold it.

For God.  For country.

Like a Marine.

Salute.

At attention.

Pop that breastbone.

Tension.

Pops sternum.

I’m not dead.

I’m a crazy motherfucker, but I’m not dead.

And my crazy?  A lust for life.

A return.

“You can always come back/but you can’t come back all the way”

Yeah.

It is sheer folly to try.

But it is “life or no life”.

I am blowing the harp.

I am singing.

I am playing the country blues.

I become real acquainted with Robert Johnson.

‘Cept I already tried to sell my soul.

Years ago.

And God forgave me.

Because Jesus short-circuits the wrath of God.

So now I am onto an opioid drawdown.

Tapering.

Returning to a dosage I last mastered 7 years ago (and no time since).

So it soothed my brain to go back to this movie.

A sheer masterpiece:

National Lampoon’s Vacation.

Dana Barron makes me happy 🙂

Reminds me of love.

When we were in high school.

And the rare God miracle of falling in love with a girl from a couple streets over.

That miracle.

Those tie-dyed times.

Long since dusty and moth-eaten.

Let’s start with the aw-kward Family Truckster.

Metallic pea 🙂

The green latrine.

Not an auspicious start.

vacation1

“You’re gonna see a sign that says, ‘Rib Tips'” 🙂

This was Trump era.

Think Melania.

Christie Brinkley.

But nothing is better than Randy Quaid as Cousin Eddie 🙂

Quaid owns this role.

Drives it into the ground.

Slam dunks it.

The laconic redneck.

Piss-perfect.

“Vicki, can I help you with that Kool-Aid…please.”

“REAL…tomato ketchup, Eddie???”

And the white shoes which act as time machine and talisman.

Future past.

From another century.

Something that’s crossed over.

Houellebecq.

But I got new respect for law enforcement.

And I got huge respect for American military.

Military City USA.

San Antonio.

Here we are.

And these crazy times of FBI.

Las Vegas.

What do you want to believe?

I have turned off the medium which slapped me daily with the message.

I don’t give a fuck about the FBI.

I don’t give a fuck about the CIA.

A useful bit of wisdom at times.

Nay, I am not even really following politics at the moment.

Fuck it.

Fuck these people.

A bunch of losers.

But, regardless:  I don’t have the extra capacity…the patience.

I gotta get myself healthy.

So fuck it.

FBI, do your job.

CIA, stop being such bastards.

I don’t know.

Is that fair?

Which is to say, I’m a nobody.  A nothing.

But at least I know that.

And I can crawl from beneath my rock and give thanks to God.

I can give thanks that nobody has whacked me.

“50 yards…”

Aunt Edna on the roof 🙂

In the fucking rain.

Yep.

That is a rich scenario.

“I thought you were going to tell me your were in the CIA.”

“What, me???  No…not anymore.  A long time ago.  I don’t really like to talk about it.”

Beverly D’Angelo is really good.

Anthony Michael Hall is solid.

But Chevy Chase really ties the room together 🙂

AND RANDY QUAID.

God…

Harold Ramis directed a rather perfect picture here.

No shame.

This is fine filmmaking indeed.

 

-PD