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UTUSN

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Here's from a DUer's post a few weeks ago; mentions UNGER

Ever since SHITLER decided to inflict himself on us, it has been inexplicable that he has cozied up to the Russians at every turn, down to a few days ago when he’s sending ventilators to Russia. I’ve been calling him a cartel mobster for a couple of years just based on his behaviors – the LOYALTY thing, the demands for total authority.

So there have been bits here or there about Russians laundering money via condos in his properties, high prices and empty buildings. The mysteries have nagged – the attacks on MUELLER and COMEY, the weird alliances (GUILIANI).

So this lays it out: Not PUTIN, but a Russian mobster/banker/SEMION MOGILEVICH. And GUILIANI + TRUMP is that they have the worst dirt on each other and hate each other but can’t throw each other under the bus. And SHITLER trashes the FBI guys because they know him as an FBI “Confidential Informant” (CI) and can’t expose him, hence why MUELLER hinted at everything but left it all hanging. I did the long reading of the links to outline it easy for you.

**********QUOTE********

https://gregolear.substack.com/p/bloody-mob-sht-an-interview-with
Bloody Mob Sh*t: An Interview with Lincoln's Bible
We talk Trump, Mogilevich, Epstein, Giuliani, Fred Trump, Roy Cohn, and more.

Greg Olear

.... LB (Lincoln's Bible) : ... Fred (Trump), ... all (his construction projects) were done with known mafia partners, in Genovese-controlled territory, and eventually with a fully Genovese-owned construction company (HRH Construction). ....
... Remember donald’s quote, “Even my father, he said, you don’t want to go to Manhattan. That’s not our territory?” That’s because Manhattan, for construction, was Gambino territory. They controlled the concrete and unions. And Fred was a very loyal, shrewd front for the Genovese. To get his idiot, greedy kid into Manhattan, Fred and Roy Cohn had to get those two mob bosses to agree on a joint venture. ....

GO (Greg OLEAR) : Rudy Giuliani, whose father was a lesser mobster, built his reputation prosecuting Italian mobsters. In the process, he made it easier for the Russians to move in. ... ....

LB: Here’s the thing…and it’s NYC mob gossip, but I trust the source. Rudy and donald hate each other. Capital “H” hate. They both have dirt on one another. And, for both, it’s as bad as it gets. Cocaine, corruption, and bloody mob shit. So they’re stuck together. Don’t look for one to turn on the other. Unless drugs/alcohol/dementia takes over, and they burn each other down as they internally crumble. ....

GO: ... We know he (Jeffrey EPSTEIN) was associated with the Russian mafiya, through his relationship with Ghislaine Maxwell, whose father, Robert, was business partners with Semion Mogilevich, head of the Vor. ...

LB: Epstein laundered money for global arms dealers. ... ....

*****************

http://www.citjourno.org/mission
Citizen Journalists Consortium
POKE THE BEAR

.... ... There is a man who controls our President. And his name is not Vladimir Putin. ....

... the most brilliant, dangerous, powerful, criminal mastermind the world has ever seen. This is not hyperbole. This is SEMION MOGILEVICH. ....

... Mogilevich, the "Boss of Bosses," is also known in Russia and to international intelligence agencies as Don Semyon, “The Brainy Don.” ....

... The Soviet Union collapsed. In the vacuum of leadership – of policy – of governmental order, a few hungry souls made a mad grab for state resources. They were the original seven oligarchs, called “The Magnificient Seven.” And they were all bankers. One of these first seven bankers, Mikhail Fridman – the founder of ALFABANK, is Semion Mogilevich’s partner. ... ....

... Putin was used to help execute Semion’s strategy for turning Russia into a Mafiya State. ... ....

... SEMION TRADES IN NUCLEAR MATERIAL AND ARMS WITH IRAN ... ....
... This aspect of Semion’s criminal enterprise is one thing (of many) the Iran Deal sought to eliminate. ... ....

... the Russian Mafiya’s infiltration of America. ... the Russian take-over of America’s mafia crime families, the “Five Families,” ... ....

... the mobster Vyacheslov Ivankov set him off on Semion’s trail. Ivankov was Semion’s lieutenant, sent to America to set up operations. If you recognize his name, it’s because Ivankov is the mobster who landed in a condo in Trump Tower, hid out regularly at Trump Taj Mahal, and was eventually caught by the FBI’s organized crime unit. ... ....

... Mogilevich’s crime syndicate is also THE case that puts the history of Donald Trump’s business “partnerships” into context. It explains why the #TrumpRussia investigation ... shifted from counter-intelligence to CRIMINAL. ...

It also answers what lurks beneath Trump’s flailing tweets, firing of Comey, and strategic undermining of the integrity of our independent press. ... ....

... The equation for finding the perfect mark is simple: 1) identify a businessman who has what you need – like a vehicle to wash your blood money, + 2) find their weak spot, and + 3) squeeze. ....

In the United States, there was one businessman at the top of Don Semyon’s list. One who was the easiest mark and could reap the greatest return. One who was sheltering Mogilevich's Men. One who was already in business with the American mafia, when "the" RUSSIAN MOB rolled over them all. ....

And thanks to Fred Trump, Roy Cohn, and the “Five Families” of American mafia, the United States already had a perfect front for Mogilevich to take. A man – a brand, that could wash the devil’s blood money clean. ....

... Semion Mogilevich took over American mafia’s territory, he took Donald Trump with it. ....

... Semion Mogilevich took over his second brand: TRUMP ENTERPRISES. ....

*************


https://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=1150239448649866&id=100009914652603
Greg OLEAR Facebook page

.... A confidential informant, or “CI,” is a mole run by law enforcement within a criminal enterprise. Not a “rat,” whose treachery is well known to his comrades, but a craftier, more duplicitous breed of rodent. Crimes committed by the CI are overlooked, or allowed to continue unabated, in exchange for good intelligence—“treasure,” as Control calls it in Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. ....

The only way to know for sure if Donald John Trump is a Confidential Informant is if he admits it himself (unlikely), or if law enforcement comes forward (illegal). But the circumstantial evidence is compelling. The pattern is: 1) Trump deals with mobsters as usual; 2) Law enforcement begins investigating Trump; 3) Mobsters suddenly get busted, while 4) investigation into Trump is scuttled. This happened three times that we know about. I’m not counting the first known instance of Trump providing information to prosecutors, concerning Cody and concrete, in the late 70s: ... ....

... (Trump in) 1995? Failing tremendously. That was the year when he declared a loss of an unfathomable $916 million on his tax returns. It was also at this time that Trump Tower became a sort of Moscow on Fifth Avenue, with any number of Russian mobsters scooping up apartments—an arrangement that began in 1984, when the Russian mobster David Bogatin purchased five condos for $6 million. Trump Tower was one of just two buildings in all of New York City that allowed units to be purchased by shell companies. Why did Trump, virtually alone among New Yorkers, allow these fishy deals?

As the indefatigable Craig Unger writes in the Washington Post, the shady Bogatin deal began a 35-year relationship between Trump and Russian organized crime. Mind you, this was a period during which the disintegration of the Soviet Union had opened a fire-hose-like torrent of hundreds of billions of dollars in flight capital from oligarchs, wealthy apparatchiks and mobsters in Russia and its satellites. And who better to launder so much money for the Russians than Trump — selling them multimillion-dollar condos at top dollar, with little or no apparent scrutiny of who was buying them. ....

... what made Trump’s attacks on Mueller so ironic. He impugned the former FBI director as corrupt, while depending on his incorruptibility to not reveal his (alleged) CI status. ....

Notes
This piece was written under the expert guidance of Lincoln’s Bible. If you don’t already do so, please follow her on Twitter, and check out her own mafiya reporting at Citjourno.

I encourage everyone to read the State of New Jersey Department of Gaming Enforcement investigation report on the allegations against Donald John Trump in the Wayne Barrett book Trump: The Deals and the Downfall.
The late Bob Levinson was the FBI’s best Russian mob fighter. His Ivankov testimony is also essential reading.

— Greg Olear, Substack

********UNQUOTE*******






To all the bogeymen I've known before

When I was young, Tricky Dick was the biggest bogeyman I knew of. Not a HITLER or a STALEEN, just dirty and embarrassing, and I didn’t imagine there could be worse. But then came Ronnie and Nancy who had a different edge on them, greedy and cruel. Somehow Poppy BUSH with his goofiness was almost convincing that he was out of the loop, while now we know he was just as dirty and cruel. And then came Shrub W., who just made us eat shit and laughed in our faces. And yet all of these a-holes had a shred of restraint and limits, like a fear of going too far that could pass for respect. And that shred made me believe there couldn’t be somebody worse. And now we have The Great Fluke, this SHITLER thing who is *so* bad that he makes me nostalgic for some of those others. Tricky Dick had a sense of history and fear of what History would say about him, pride the way he would march-in-step when Hail to the Chief played and not burning the tapes for History's sake. RAYGUN knew he was No-FDR, just a trained actor. Poppy had the secret handshakes of the real power brokers to keep him. Shrub just needed to claim his birthright from Poppy and JEB. But SHITLER respects nothing. LBJ and Tricky Dick could take a hint and a clue and leave the building.






Actually, I *do* have a partly analogous story, re: the brute force response of some top brass.

Analogous, yes: Because at bottom, the military has a follow-orders, authoritarian, my-way-or-the-highway orientation. Plus a culture of the chain of command lubricated by ass-kissing.

Analogous, perhaps or maybe not: Because this captain appears to be a whistleblower about his brass not protecting the crew, while the fellow in my story has no known motivation and some observable behavior that was inexplicable, while the way he was dealt with was similarly brutal.

So my ship in Vietnam was one in a group of seven, each with its Captain (actually, a Lieutenant for this small ship). Over the group was a "Commodore," a rank revived from the Civil War.

So the junior officer was in the entry level of Navy officers, Ensign. Each officer headed up a Department of his own - Engineering, Deck, Supply, etc. Of course there is a semi-Feudal class system, with the Captain as the king, the officers as nobility, and all us Enlisted as peons. It all can't function if there is no humanity in it, some kind of human kinship crossing the social barriers, camaraderie between the officer and his work force.

Yet as classes, the officers and Enlisted are always aware of the distinction between them. So while almost all of the officers had some degree of friendly relations with their Enlisteds, this junior officer, let's call him "JO" or Ensign JO, was the *ONLY* one who would OCCASIONALLY drop by the living quarters of us Enlisteds after evening chow, where we did our "living" - writing letters home, playing cards, somebody playing a guitar, etc. He would sit on a laundry bag and just talk a bit, mostly listen, find out who we were, etc. This was not some kind of unseemly fraternization, just that he was a nice guy.

So fairly late in my year's tour, we had one of those tizzies where the Word from the top is that something Big is decreed to happen and we are all thrown into doing stuff to Make It Happen. Some arbitrary, whimsical Word or something real, who knows. So this time the thing was that the COMMODORE was going to pay us a royal visit and we all had to drop our routine tasks and make the ship as spic and span as the rust bucket could be made to appear: "Paint this WHITE!1 Polish that brass thing!1" So that happened.

The royal visit happened while we were anchored in the River (in the Mekong Delta) at the Army base (Can Tho) where we were unloading our cargo - bulldozers, gigantic bags of cement, whatever it was that time (pallets of Coca Cola). Before somebody questions a ship being in a river: My ship was an LST (Landing Ship Tank) with a flat bottom for handling SHALLOW water as well as deep deep ocean, like what was used at D-Day; and these rivers in Vietnam were BIG AND WIDE. Still are. And my LST was built in 1945 maybe for D-Day but too late, and we were using it thirty years later, leaking at the rusty seams and all. Talk about putting crew at risk.

So perhaps it was to show off for the Commodore, whom I never saw, by the way, but the Orders for the Enlisteds on that night's Watch were that there was intel that Charlie might be sending Swimmers to outfit the ship with mines under the water line. So with typical military OVER?-compensation ('cause nobody wants to be blamed later for *UNDER* compensating if something goes horribly wrong), the Order was for each Watch to shoot off his (M16?) all night long at anything that moved - leaves floating by, anything - because it might be a "Swimmer in the Water". Or perhaps it was all intended to be a fireworks show for the Commodore. Fine.

But before night, every time we were at our destination of the Army base for the 3 or 4 days there, we were allowed to go to the Enlisted Men's Club ("bar" ), meaning, go get drunk and be back by 7 P.M. Since we were anchored out, we rode a Liberty Boat (Lifeboat repurposed for its current mission) to get there and back. So that would happen and everybody was always back on board as scheduled. We climbed up the Jacob's Ladder, and at the top as we stepped onto the deck, we had to salute towards the back (fantail) where the flag was (out of sight), and then salute the Officer of the Deck and say, "Request permission to come onboard, Sir!" And the OOD would say, "Permission granted," and we would proceed to our quarters, at times like Liberty in whatever stumbling condition we were in.

So the final Run by the Liberty Boat was done and everybody was accounted for - except for one, guess who, Ensign JO. Now to recap, this fellow had an image of being IMPECCABLE in his observable behavior, uniform, everything, with the added little icing of being a good human being. Of course, we Enlisteds knew nothing beyond external appearances, what personal dynamics, if any, went on, being the hidden lives of our overlords. About him, there had never been a whisper of any flaw. Officers go on Liberty, too, AND do things like get drunk or even perhaps visit sex workers - DO they, don't they?!

So the Liberty Boat made another Run or two or three to find him and finally, success. So I was the Messenger assigned to the OOD, standing behind and to the side of the OOD, seeing everybody as they climbed up from the Jacob's Ladder, first the head, then the arms pulling the body up, the salutes, and the stumblings off.

So there had been a tizzy about Ensign JO being missing, and finally here he was. He came up the Ladder (rope, by the way), no Cover (hatless), disheveled, khaki uniform askew. DRUNK or something AS A SKUNK, in that happy kind of drunk mood, where everything is FUN. And he stood himself up at Attention, and did a BIG salute, exaggeratedly so as for a theatrical stage, to his peer Officer (the sun had set so there was no flag to salute), as he said with booming emphasis, "REQUEST PERMISSION TO COME ON BOARD, *SIR*!1" The OOD gave him the most disgusted, infuriated, deadly look and snarled at him, "GET in there!1" So Ensign JO stumbled his way down the deck in the direction of Officers' Quarters.

The people on Watch had already been posted for the night, one each at the Bow (front), Fantail (back), and Starboard (right) and Port (left) sides, and the orders for the night were to "make noise," fire off the pieces sporadically and randomly. But suddenly, running up the deck towards the OOD area, came Ensign JO clad only in his skivvies, running past all, up the deck to the Bow, yelling, "SWIMMER IN THE WATER!1 SWIMMER IN THE WATER!1 DON'T SHOOT, DON'T SHOOT!1" And when he got to the Bow, he *JUMPED* off, making a really big splash, later in more ways than just the literal.

This LST was the length of a football field, a ship on the smaller side of things, with a crew of 250, not like the aircraft carrier in the news that has a crew of five thousand. So then, Sir Ensign JO *swam* from the Bow back to the Jacob's Ladder and made his second boarding of the night, dripping wet, barefoot, and with a couple of our toughest sailors as an honor escort. Somehow there has to be a kind of grudging, astounded admiration, at the minimum for the physical prowess involved - drunk, in the dark, among who knows what live critters or inanimate hazards, perhaps having fought off a Swimmer in the Water or two, if so, probably scaring the bejeezus out of the alleged Swimmers in the Water. Actually, when you think about it, he was the only crew who possibly engaged in hand to hand combat. I mean, our ship was hit by rockets on three separate days during my year, and we crew of course fired our big cannon and smaller 30? 40? caliber type of Gatling Gun things, but it was at a far distance to the treeline at the horizon, where the puffs of smoke from the rocket launchers were. So Ensign JO faced something close up.

So the scuttlebutt the next day was that, whatever happened in Officers' Quarters the night before, the next morning the Commodore had the four Enlisteds who had been on duty hauled up to stand at Attention in a row in front of Him, and after recapping the events of Ensign JO's episode, screamed at them: "You had ORDERS to shoot anything that moved in the water!1 --- YOU. SHOULD. HAVE. *SHOT* THAT MAN!1"

That part I didn't witness. But, the soon to be formerly-Ensign, JO was confined to Officers' Quarters for his last couple of days on board, only allowed to cross the passageway between his tiny 2-Officer stateroom and the Ship's Office located in the officers' area. And I had a proto-Forrest GUMP moment, since at that time my day job was to deliver the mail to different areas and the office was one of them. Normally, the four Enlisteds who worked there were there, but this day when I opened the door, there was only one person there: JO. His back was turned to the door. And there was an Akai reel tape recorder playing some instrumental Blues. Really blue Blues. Wailing, heart breaking Blues. In the hot, steamy air. (Can it be any more Blues here?) And his shoulders were hunched and he didn't turn to see. And I just looked briefly for a fossilized moment and left the mail on the desk and closed the door quietly. A mere Enlisted me could never have been so presumptuous as to address a human word to an officer.

**********So, within a day or two ex-Ensign JO was disappeared off the ship, never to be seen or heard from again. Yes, the career was over. Nobody could say a negative word about him before, and NO word was said about him after. What little I knew of him, he was a good man. Or was he? Did he seek out Enlisteds because he had problems among his peers? Why did he specifically pick the hyper-dramatic scenario of the Commodore's visit for this? Was he just on booze or were there drugs? I don't know.

As for how this relates to the Captain in the news: Things in play are the same. Whoever made the decision had some asskissing to do, also had to put the military retribution where the military MOUTH goes. And often, military judgment is brutally authoritarian and over-reaching. And military cogs all up and down the line are individuals, some willing to have one of their own shot.













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