Everything you ever wanted to know about the “Deep State”…let’s get started

My name is Madigan.  That’s not my real name of course, because I’ve been when you sojourn, even for a short while, in the Deep State your name is changed…forever.  But it will do for right now.  In a week I might be someone else.

In this age which is hypocritically called “post-truth” (that implies previous ages were truthful, or people really cared about “truth”) it’s hard to figure out what to believe.  So the only way I convince you to take me seriously, let alone believe what I will reveal to you, is gradually and over time.  It’s not much different than entering into an intimate relationship with someone.  It takes time to peel off their endless layers of masks, and ironically to peel off your very own masks.  And even if you “know” them in the Bible sense right off the bat, you only get to know them over times.

That’s really why Denizens of the Deep State, as in all the popular spy  movies, are always jumping into bed with each other.

In the Deep State it’s all about trust, but trust has to be earned.  Now, I’m boring you with the obvious.  Let’s move on…

I am in the Deep State, because I was born into it.  Yea, you really don’t get recruited into it at the “entry level”, then work your way up, like in all the Hollywood thrillers, even if you end up going rogue.  You’re selected because someone close to you was selected in a previous generation, and so on.  Now, of course, just because your parent or close relative was part of it, that doesn’t mean you will be.  You have to be “tapped” in a moment of crisis.  Let me explain.

My “progenitor” was my father.  Until recently that was usually the case, but there are many cases of having mothers, brothers, and even aunts, uncles, and cousins.   The Deep State is no longer as waspishly consanguinary as it was as late as the last generation.   I’m not a WASP.  I’m mostly Eastern European with a little hidden Jewishness.  But that’s not really relevant at this point.

I’m pretty sure my father was bent on making sure I wasn’t selected.  He had this fantasy that I would never know what had gone on.  He wanted me to be innocent of it all, I suppose, like those Mafioso who had all girls and wanted to make sure their little “princesses” never knew about how their uncles and various male forbears had done the “blood in” thing across generations.   Unlike many of these “bloodliners”, my father as bent on bringing down the curtain once and for all.

Except that somebody wasn’t going to let that happen, at least for a while.   So when my father died at an untimely age, my “Dutch uncles” stepped in and, as far as I can tell, made me a “regent” for a decade or two until they felt it was time.

But I don’t want to spend a lot of time with my personal details.  How could you verify them anyway?  Especially since you don’t really know who I am.

What I want to let you know is that the Deep State is suddenly in crisis right now.  It’s sort of like those old Japanese movies where they drop an atomic bomb on an atoll, and some ancient, slumbering and horrendous creature is aroused from its deep sleep.  For the first time in almost half a century the Deep State was not able to manage the world the way it wanted to, and was caught off guard.

The kerfuffle over the administration’s supposed “Russia scandal”, and all the hot air that was sucked out of the balloon after the Comey hearing this past week, is just the latest dustup.  There is more coming, and you – whoever you are – need to be prepared.



Through the looking glass…and what Alice found

One thing was certain, that the white kitten had had
nothing to do with it:— it was the black kitten’s fault
entirely. For the white kitten had been having its face
washed by the old cat for the last quarter of an hour (and
bearing it pretty well, considering); so you see that it couldn’t
have had any hand in the mischief.

The way Dinah washed her children’s faces was this:
first she held the poor thing down by its ear with one paw,
and then with the other paw she rubbed its face all over, the
wrong way, beginning at the nose: and just now, as I said,
she was hard at work on the white kitten, which was lying
quite still and trying to purr— no doubt feeling that it was
all meant for its good.

But the black kitten had been finished with earlier in the
afternoon, and so, while Alice was sitting curled up in a corner
of the great arm-chair, half talking to herself and half
asleep, the kitten had been having a grand game of romps
with the ball of worsted Alice had been trying to wind up,
and had been rolling it up and down till it had all come
undone again; and there it was, spread over the hearth-rug,
all knots and tangles, with the kitten running after its own
tail in the middle.

‘Oh, you wicked little thing!’ cried Alice, catching up
the kitten, and giving it a little kiss to make it understand
that it was in disgrace. ‘Really, Dinah ought to have taught
you better manners! You ought, Dinah, you know you
ought!’ she added, looking reproachfully at the old cat, and
speaking in as cross a voice as she could manage— and then
she scrambled back into the arm-chair, taking the kitten and
the worsted with her, and began winding up the ball again.
But she didn’t get on very fast, as she was talking all the
time, sometimes to the kitten, and sometimes to herself.
Kitty sat very demurely on her knee, pretending to watch
the progress of the winding, and now and then putting out
one paw and gently touching the ball, as if it would be glad
to help, if it might.

‘Do you know what tomorrow is, Kitty?’ Alice began.

‘You’d have guessed if you’d been up in the window with
me— only Dinah was making you tidy, so you couldn’t. I
was watching the boys getting in stick for the bonfire— and
it wants plenty of sticks, Kitty! Only it got so cold, and it
snowed so, they had to leave off. Never mind, Kitty, we’ll
go and see the bonfire to-morrow.’…

Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Found There (1896), 8-9.