Sometimes, if you open up a big enough gate and stand in the void, the gate will swing back and slap you on the ass — which is where serial bungler and arch-schlemiel Rep. Adam Schiff (D-CA) finds himself at the end of an exhausting week’s dissembling in the WhistleGate matter. Long about now, his reluctant partner in the latest impeachment gambit, House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, must feel date-raped just a little bit as every unraveling thread in the story leads back to another exposed deception by Schiff, the Inspector Clouseau of impeachment politics.
Maybe reading an alt-reality version of the Trump-Zelensky phone transcript wasn’t such a hot idea after all, since he read into the record evidence of his own bad faith. What was at issue, of course, were the President’s words, and in substituting something demonstrably other than that, and placing it on the record, Rep. Schiff set up a prima facie case for dismissal of his own case against Mr. Trump. Any way you slice the stunt, it smells like malfeasance.
Then there is the alleged “Whistleblower.” The identity of this shadowy figure can’t be concealed indefinitely. The Whistleblower may not even exist, and if he or she does, the classification of whistleblower may not apply to the actions taken by him/her and his/her managers. He/she has been officially described as a CIA agent detailed for some time in the White House during the Obama years, who may have been rotated back into the Trump White House on the pretext of some special expertise, say Ukrainian affairs. That suggests his/her origin as a John Brennan tool. That is, the former CIA chief now nervously awaiting the legal disposition of his intrigues in the RussiaGate matter. WhistleGate may be Mr. Brennan’s last desperate ploy to ward off prosecution, a gate too far.
What for? How about using the CIA to spy domestically on American citizens on US soil, which it is expressly forbidden to do by law, and pretty bad news if authorized by the guy who ran the whole shop, not just some schwantz section leader at a rogue operations desk. The FBI can do it with proper warrants, but not the CIA. Perhaps more troubling is who may have authorized Mr. Brennan to do that. Does the name Barack Obama ring a bell? He has kept so deeply out of sight in recent months that he’s becoming as obscure as James Knox Polk in the public’s memory. Many may forget he played a role in RussiaGate.
The first casualty of WhistleGate is the Democratic party’s front-runner in the 2020 presidential contest, Joe Biden, who may now spend his retirement years doing Chinese fire drills in the federal courts for influence peddling in connection with his bag-man son, R. Hunter Biden. I suspect the Dems are glad to get rid of stumbling, fumbling Uncle Joe, who was finding it hard to run with one foot constantly in his mouth. Now they’re stuck with candidates dedicated to open borders, free health care for border-jumpers, and a whole lot more obviously insane policy experiments borrowed from the Herbert Marcuse playbook. Good luck with that.
By the way, what if it turns out that there actually is no Whistleblower, that the figure was just a fiction, a CGI figment cooked up by Adam Schiff, his lawyers, and sundry other players on the Deep State bench? Sounds outlandish perhaps, but I wouldn’t put it past the congressman from Hollywood. We’ll find out soon enough. Meanwhile, it appears that the purported Whistleblower and his chief handler, Intelligence Community Inspector General (ICIG) Michael Atkinson failed to observe the proper procedures in reporting the complaint through channels, not to mention the legerdemain of sketchy paperwork that attested to the complaint. Remember who Michael Atkinson is: the former legal counsel to John P. Carlin, who was Assistant Attorney General for National Security during the origin months of the RussiaGate operation in the summer of 2016, and before that chief of staff to… wait for it… Robert Mueller, when he was FBI Director. Do you begin to detect a claque of senior bureaucrats scrambling to cover each other’s ass?
Interesting days ahead as this feculent blob of malfeasance creepy-crawls through the spooky weeks of October, climaxing in Halloween. These are the weeks when the DOJ Inspector General’s report on FISA court shenanigans comes down. It’s also the month of the Brexit Absolute Deadline. That hairball over in Old Blighty might seem of unconcern over here, but it contains enough explosive power to destabilize the European banking system and, with it, America’s, which would lead to some rather scary action in the bond and equity markets at exactly the time of year when accidents like that happen.
And then, deeper in the background, like Hades and Thanatos, stand the grave figures of Barr and Durham, whose very silence lo these many months must be giving the vapors to that claque of lesser monsters who cooked up the coup to overthrow the president, and botched the job.
