Uncomfortable Truths

Call me old fashioned, but I am a big fan of the truth. There is something beautiful and liberating about the truth, even when it leads to dark and sordid places. There is no greater disinfectant than sunlight. Dr Peterson’s twelve rules leave it until number eight to insist upon telling the truth; I would put it at number one, personally. Good and righteous and noble things flow from the truth, and in its absence the void is invariably filled with filth and subversion and perversion.

Do you ever, in a quiet moment, muse upon the lies we are expected as a human collective to accept, even though a child could see through the deception? For example, you’re just waiting for a train, or doing the washing up, and it pops into your mind that the Warren Commission is riddled with critically important omissions. Or, perhaps, the fact that the hole in The Pentagon isn’t big enough for a Boeing 757.

Because these lies are so gigantic and already so heavily entrenched, yet simultaneously scrutinised and semi-debunked, it feels as though there is nothing that can be done. Your mind boggles, then accepts that you personally have no control over the narrative, and so you ruefully allow the cognitive dissonance to wash over you, then move on with your life.  

Isn’t the story of Jeffrey Epstein and his henchwoman Ghislane Maxwell one of those? You know it’s the tip of an iceberg, you know it suggests a staggering truth that is actively being denied to you, but it’s all so frightful and grotesque that you almost dare not look directly at it. Keep picking at that scab and who knows what horrors will be revealed.

Now, due to a lifetime of studying historiography - examining who is saying something in particular, and why they might be saying it - I like to think it has given me a nose for sniffing out lies from truth. I can’t play you a piano concerto, and I severely doubt I could hit a ball out of Fenway Park, but I think I can spot lies and half-truths better than most. I can almost smell the deception, and to be frank, the Epstein story stinks to high heaven. It absolutely reeks. Obviously. I’m not going out on a limb here.

It seems to me that one doesn’t even necessarily need a highly developed sense of truth to appreciate that the Epstein saga is a giant mound of filth. Lies upon lies upon lies, piled high, compounding each other, muddying the water to the point where fundamental truths are increasingly difficult to ever rescue from the mire. I suspect that is a deliberate aspect to the whole affair; layer upon layer of mistruth and misinformation just to distort what rests at the bottom of the whole rotten edifice. That’s what the intelligence services do. That’s how they roll. That’s their bread and butter.

So many names, so many places, so many allegations, so many lawsuits; anyone could be forgiven for losing sight of the most salient points. Lost among the details and the crimes is the apparent fact that Epstein was the frontman for a truly incredible blackmailing machine. The grooming of children, the dodgy DAs, the princes and presidents, the private islands, Chris Tucker and Bono; all of it a distraction from the truth lying dormant at the bottom of it all. Blackmail.

Lionel, of Lionel Nation fame, has described Epstein’s mansions and jets as effectively elaborate and clandestine sound-stages. Lionel is a brave and courageous man; I like Lionel. His hypothesis smells right, to me. It makes sense. Everything Epstein did (other than his own personal gratification - which was undeniably a huge aspect of it all) seems as though it was designed to entrap extremely rich and powerful people, gather evidence of their sex crime, then blackmail them for whatever nafarious reasons his handlers might dream up. Of course the mark, the rich or famous person in question, would have to already be a degenerate sex freak; but it seems Hollywood and the upper strata of society have no lack of those. 

Epstein would have had handlers, we can only surmise. It seems unlikely that this Coney Island grifter was the ultimate mastermind of this entire operation. Rather, he was the frontman.

I find it telling that Robert Maxwell’s connection to the Israeli intelligence services is seldom mentioned. I listened to an hours-long podcast about the hunt for Ghislaine Maxwell recently, and though it was very thorough, it completely omitted her fathers involvement with the intelligence services. It brushed very close to that topic, but never mentioned it directly. Strange; as it is quite well known. Similarly with the billionaire Les Wexner, apparently the source of Epstein’s hundreds of millions, the man who just gifted Epstein his Manhattan townhouse and his private jet; not many journalists or pundits are chomping at the bit to expose him and his connection to the intelligence community. How very odd. Usually the corporate press suggest Wexner and Epstein’s relationship is shrouded in mystery, then effectively just throw their hands up and leave it there. This all smells terribly off to me. The stench of the intelligence services fills my nostrils.

Then there is the glow-in-the-dark Ms Ghislaine Maxwell herself. The executive assistant, the socialite, the procuress, the madame, the monster. If she is not an intelligence asset I would be extremely surprised. My nose tells me that she was so deep into the scene that she was drowning in it. Every detail about her life, from her Oxford days to her most recent arrest, everything about her is suspicious. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was calling more of the shots than Epstein himself. After all, she was the one with all the connections, she would have been the one that set many wheels in motion. Epstein seems to have been more of a frontman controlling the purse strings and fulfilling his own personal depraved fantasies into the bargain.

The uncomfortable truth about all this might be something which seems actually pretty clear, just isn’t explicitly articulated very often. It seems the intelligence services (of more than one nation) spend vast amounts of time and money to entrap the rich and famous of the world into committing sex crime, blackmail them, then stop at nothing to cover their tracks. An absolutely insane and diabolical set of circumstances.