R.I.P., Natalie Corona: The Devil Singe Your Hide, Crooked Prosecutors

In what I posted last week, I had no intent whatever of implying disrespect for, or even distrust of, the young people who put on a cop’s uniform to go draw fire in the undeclared wars of our urban centers.  When Natalie Corona—who was a year younger than my son, and had just entered active duty—was gunned down a couple of days ago during a routine traffic stop, I read what little I could find out with no satisfaction; and I will add that I find the grandstanding, rabble-rousing, leading-from-the-rear revolutionary poseurs on campuses who scream, “Death to pigs,” to have a part in such murders.  Not a very big part, for they’re incapable of contributing substantially to anything: enough of a part to be hanged on a very small gibbet on the very back row of Hell’s infamous hordes.

So, yes, I “support the police”… I think.  Kind of depends on what you mean.  I support ordinary people doing an extraordinarily dangerous job for modest pay and taking an extraordinary amount of abuse all the while.  My remarks of last week were not aimed at the Natalie Coronas of the world.  (For that matter, the backshooting butcher seems almost to have paraded in a bullet-proof vest before the cops who surrounded his home, aware that the “rules of engagement” rendered him even safer than his body armor.  Were it not for his having the decency to kill himself, his “ultra-sonic waves” defense probably would have won him a few years of therapy and then release. How much more insane can California become?)

The real villains, when law enforcement goes awry, are usually sitting behind a desk.  I don’t even know that I bear any particular grudge toward over-zealous detectives who manipulate suspects into dubious confessions.  It’s “how they were raised,” you know: part of the “culture”.  I can imagine that someone in that line hears so many lame stories in a typical month… “I wadn’t there… I just drove past… maybe I got out, but I didn’t go inside… he called me inside, and that’s when I looked through the screen door and seen the body… well maybe he wadn’t dead yet… it was two months ago, man, I can’t remember.”  God… and to think that I would lose patience with the excuses for why students’ papers were late!

The supervisors of the interrogators, however, are supposed to hold the reins.  They should instruct or discipline their subordinates when things show signs of going KGB.  Instead, too often, they take a dirty ball and run it to the goal line, trying to clean it off as they go.  As long as the chief clears his cases… as long as the DA gets a conviction: the public must feel secure (whether it truly is or not), the voters must be placated, the résumé must be spruced up… or perhaps we just want to get to retirement.  Sure, Chief, whose life is really ruined?  Everyone feels better except the guy going to jail for a crime he didn’t commit—and your footsoldiers have ascertained that the community is better off with him in lock-up, anyway, whether he did this crime or some other that he skated on.

They say a fish rots from the head; and the closer we get to the head, the worse the smell gets.  The District Attorneys with lofty career ambitions are the ones who begin to frighten me.  Rudy Giuliani made a couple of bids to be POTUS, and Kamala Harris has a very real chance of being her party’s nominee for 2020.  They aim for the stars, some of these warriors for justice.  What is it in me that would like to see a DA focused 100 percent on doing the job?

Then we get to the top of the ladder, where wolves in judicial robes are snarling over the bones of the republic that they tear apart.  Mike Flynn lately pleaded guilty to a perjury charge related to an interview that was a) supposed to be informal, and b) offered no evidence of falsehood to the actual interviewers.  Why did he take a plea deal?  Because the commander of the judicial Gestapo was threatening to frame his son for some crime to be named later.  Wouldn’t you fall on your sword to save your son?  I would.

People may protest, “But you’re tarring the whole system just because of an isolated case here and there in remote jurisdictions with no budget and because of a few high-profile cases where politics has warped the process.”  Here’s my response.  We were once outraged as a nation every time we discovered that our justice system was being abused.  Now we cheer if the abuse targets someone whom we dislike; or if the victim is a complete nobody, we adopt the Caiaphas line and applaud the savings in time and resources.  As long as it doesn’t impact us personally, we can wrap ourselves in a worldly sort of cynicism, murmur, “So goes the world,” and fall back to sleep.

But what if our turn comes around?  Former Representative Steve Stockman is serving ten years after being railroaded through the system by the Obama “Justice Department” on a trumped-up charge of misusing campaign funds (but really for criticizing El Supremo’s administration).  If they want you, they’ll get you.  What, for instance, is sitting on your iPad or iPhone right now that you don’t know about?  Kiddie porn, perhaps—sufficient to get you at least three years of hard time?  Can “they” do that—can they upload things onto your devices without your knowing of it?  I’ve heard of cases, though of course I can strain little accurate information from the chatter… and, naturally, the “news media” will continue to report on Mexican children being machine-gunned along the Bravo rather than research an actual story.  All I know is that, last week, I found two music videos downloaded on my iPad and iPhone featuring homosexual lovers in embrace—and I have never downloaded any music of any kind onto any of my devices.  I scrubbed the music ap and all its contents entirely from my software… but, of course, I don’t know what other surprises might be hiding in other corners.

That incident shook me up.  It got me to thinking about how very, very easy creating a criminal past for Citizen X would be in an era when everyone is more or less coerced into depositing sensitive information online.  If they want you, they’ll get you.  The officers who pile out of the squad cars to cuff you and cart you off will probably be as innocent as your own sons and daughters… but they will be working for the wolves of hell concealed in a human hide.

The Dark Elite (Part One)

I don’t know how long I’m going to ride a wave of thoughts that has swept me up lately… and I don’t know, either, where the wave will carry me. Some of you may be interested in following; and in that case, we’ll find out together what strange coast lies before us. I do have a feeling, already, that it’s littered with bones.

The first notion of which I’ve had to rid myself in pondering the Dark Elite (i.e., the select few who really rule us) is that the corporate private sector and the political public sector have any significant degree of separation. They don’t. There is no “industrial-political complex”—only a single corporate monstrosity whose tentacles extend into both public and private domains. Big business gives donations to politicians; then government passes laws favorable to the proliferation of mega-business activity. The activity produces or takes away jobs in this or that locale or sector while multiplying product. Prices rise on cutting-edge technology and lower for the obsolescent, the reduced-capacity, and the knock-off. Politicians represent all of these changes in a “narrative” (as it’s now called) that best serves their bid to stay in power. They may elevate taxes on their profiteering business cronies while also sullying their name in public; but the tax hike is paid for by higher consumer prices, hidden deductions, and lucrative government contracts. Not since Richard Burton and Liz have two entities fought so openly while spending so much time in bed together off camera.

Computer-related industries and their offshoots have consistently posed the most obvious manifestation of this unholy marriage from my perch of observation (as an educator) for the past two decades. From a capitalist perspective, the wonderful thing about the digital revolution is a) that “old stuff” is utterly useless—a PC literally cannot negotiate today’s Internet through a landline; and b) that stuff gets old very, very quickly. Obsolescence may now occur within a year, requiring the purchase of state-of-the-art gadgetry at premium cost. The Managerial State has been surprisingly slow to harvest the enormous propagandistic benefits offered by this technology; but we should note that such “benefits” are latent and always ready for exploitation, should our elected officials decide to take the next Orwellian step. The Obama IRS, it is true, showed much talent for the game; and senior officials appointed to the Department of Justice, the FBI, and other strong-arm bureaucracies by that administration continue to resist the exposure of their lairs to the sunlight. We know this crew popularly as the Deep State—which is not, however, the same thing as the Dark Elite. The former merely defends its careerist turf; the latter intends to rule the world.

Now, the appendage of the State that we may call Security—which includes the FBI and the police and military generally, but is increasingly out of uniform and unequipped with firearms—has in fact begun to open wireless windows through which Big Brother may watch. Yet Security’s vigilance, again, is not motivated by the partisan ends of preserving careers and impeding unsympathetic political movements. At least at the Dark Elite level, it compiles dossiers on everyone everywhere, and does so with no short-term objective in mind. We will attempt to unknot this loop of the nexus later. For the moment, we may be thankful that Security presently operates with an almost blatant and arrogant defiance of mega-business’s elected, constantly legislating pimps and panders.

Or so it seems to me. That is, most politicians, to this day, continue to fund vast phone banks at their campaign headquarters and to travel about kissing babies and belting down hot dogs. They are apt to be digital imbeciles. Their forte, after all, is tugging at collegial elbows, passing notes under the table, and smuggling into bills indecipherable riders that award special privileges to their donors. They don’t actually use the Internet themselves: they just advance legislation that makes everyone else use it. Medical records pile up in databases like stalled traffic during an LA rush hour, the NSA’s backlog of unsifted data mounts at a faster rate than the national debt, and identity theft spreads across the Internet like a digital version of Ebola… but our lawmakers persist in delivering more and more of our daily lives to the Cloud. It’s progress.

In my opinion, then, most politicians are not so much “members of the illuminati” as they are unwitting facilitators of an ambitious few. Their objective is to get rich—through contributions, perks, speaking fees, book deals, and (after retirement) consulting fees. Accusing them of participation in global conspiracy is, generally speaking, an undeserved compliment. In the stupidity of the short-sighted, they settle for a small fortune rather than angle for control of the world. The more narcissistic they are (viz. both of our most recent presidents), the less fit their temperament clearly is for manipulating our lives behind the scenes. Any true member of the Dark Elite would be delighted to preserve complete anonymity, or at least to be thought boring and negligible. A Bill Clinton, a Barack Obama, or a Donald Trump would wither under such negligence. Everyone must notice his entry into a room and concede him to be far and away the most important person in it. Hillary Clinton might nearly have been cut from the right shade of dark cloth… but she failed to reach the cave’s inner sanctum because she couldn’t keep her fingers off all the baubles lying along the way. Vladimir Putin is perhaps the one top-tier politico who also, in stunning paradox, has the ability to lower his profile and pass by scarcely noticed.

My coup d’essai grows long: just one more example. A politician demands “clean energy” of the industrial giants; and the electorate, being almost totally ignorant of how power gets to wall sockets, picks up the chant. He vows to take General Electric, Exxon Mobile, and the others to the woodshed if elected; and indeed, shortly after victory, he withdraws with the bad boys to a tightly sealed space. The energy-producers emerge gushing public penitence and love of Mother Nature on television commercials, and the politician has a new bulge in his pocket. In their suits of sackcloth, the corporations fling themselves into the creation of windmills and solar panels—with plenty of tax-funded incentives, grants, and deductions to ease the transition. The politician sees that certain districts associated with producing these dream-dynamos enjoy an employment boom… and the hefty profits of the corporations, in turn, translate into a steady trickle purling into his campaign coffers. The public sees windmills and, like Don Quixote, supposes that a magician is at work and has solved the energy crisis. It does not see the cancer villages in Africa and Southeast Asia that supply rare-earth elements for the solar panels… but then, it doesn’t need to see those, and the complicit news media ensure invisibility.

By the way, the news media are never part of the Dark Elite; few of their captains, I venture to say, so much as penetrate its outer circle. Their contribution to the effort is gratis. They are useful idiots, perhaps more likely to end up getting shot than anyone else, eventually—but lubricating the spread of a totalitarian “progress”, in the meantime, with the adolescent utopian drivel of a coddled social class.