In 1983, a movie called Scarface taught America everything it needed to know about how organized crime actually works. Tony Montana, played by Al Pacino with an accent that no Cuban has ever actually had, starts with nothing, builds a cocaine empire, buys a mansion, gets a tiger, acquires a comically large desk, and spends the middle act of the film doing two things: making ungodly amounts of money and not giving a single solitary damn about the law.

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The key to the whole operation is the BANK. Tony needs a bank willing to process his money. He needs a financial institution that will look at duffel bags full of cash, ask zero questions, and convert blood money into legitimate wealth. In the movie, some anonymous Miami banker does this. Nobody remembers the banker’s name because the movie wasn’t about the banker. It was about the guy with the mountain of cocaine and the little friend.

In real life, the banker is the whole story.

Because in real life, the banker was JPMorgan Chase, the largest financial institution in the United States. And the Tony Montana was Jeffrey Epstein. And the cocaine was children. And the duffel bags were 55 separate bank accounts processing over $1.1 billion in transactions over 15 years.

And unlike Scarface, which ends with Tony Montana getting shot in a fountain because that’s what happens to criminals in movies, the real version ends with the bank paying a fine smaller than its annual catering budget, the CEO testifying he’d never heard of the guy, and everyone going back to work on Monday.

In 2012, a senior executive sent her an email joking that a client’s home had “fewer nymphettes” than Epstein’s. This email exists in federal court records. A senior executive at the largest bank on the planet made a joke about their client’s access to underage girls, sent it to the woman who managed the division that handled his accounts, and nobody blinked.

The rape of children was office humor. Tony Montana had one rule: don’t get high on your own supply. Keep it professional. Keep it cold. Move the product, take the money, don’t ask questions. JPMorgan couldn’t even manage that. They were emailing each other nymphette jokes about the kids like it was fantasy football trash talk. The bank wasn’t just moving the money. They were ENJOYING it. (The execs in charge of his money were probably also his customers…)

55 accounts. $1.1 billion processed. Payments to over 20 named victims, most of them CHILDREN. Over $600,000 processed to a girl that the bank’s OWN INTERNAL FILES noted Epstein had “purchased” at age 14. They wrote the word “purchased.” About a 14-year-old girl. Like she was inventory. Like she was a pallet of office supplies. In their own records. In their own building. And then they kept processing his transactions because the money was too good and the girl was too powerless for anyone to give a damn.

Tony Montana bought a tiger. Epstein bought a 14-year-old. The bank that processed the purchase kept doing business with him for another decade. At least when Tony stuffed cash into the bank, the bank had the excuse that it didn’t know where the money came from. JPMorgan KNEW. They wrote it down. They filed it. They joked about it in emails. And they kept going.

A lawyer for the U.S. Virgin Islands did some math during a court hearing that I wish I could scrub from my brain. She took the $9 million in transfers to girls and women from Epstein’s accounts, divided it by the few hundred dollars he typically paid per encounter, and arrived at a number: over 20,000 rapes facilitated by JPMorgan Chase. Twenty thousand. Her exact words: “JPMorgan was a full-service bank for Jeffrey Epstein’s sex trafficking.” Full service. Like a car wash, except for the systematic rape of children.

In Scarface, Tony Montana’s operation gets taken down because a snitch talks and the DEA closes in. In real life, JPMorgan’s own compliance department was the snitch, and the executives told the snitch to shut up. Compliance officers flagged Epstein’s accounts for what they were: the financial backbone of a child rape operation. They did this repeatedly. Over years. Their job was to catch exactly this kind of thing, and they caught it, and they reported it, and every single time, senior management buried it because the money mattered more than the children.

JPMorgan eventually sued Staley, demanding eight years of compensation back (roughly $80 million), which sounds like accountability right up until you realize that suing your own former employee is what you do instead of admitting that the entire institution was complicit.

At least one other executive has testified, also under oath, that Epstein’s accounts were discussed with Dimon. Somebody lied in federal court. Nobody has been charged with perjury. And it isn’t just the bank covering for him. The U.S. government has been covering for Epstein this entire time. The DOJ gave him a sweetheart plea deal in 2008 that should have ended careers. The FBI sat on evidence for years. The Treasury received suspicious activity flags from JPMorgan as early as 2002 and did NOTHING. No investigation. No follow-up. No phone call. Nothing.

We are governed by organized crime that traffics children the way the cartels traffic drugs, and the only difference between the two operations is that the cartel doesn’t have a seat on the Federal Reserve.

The bank filed a Suspicious Activity Report with the Treasury Department flagging over $1 billion in Epstein transactions as related to “human trafficking.” A billion dollars. In child rape money. They filed this AFTER Epstein was arrested. And AFTER he was dead. Sixteen years of children being raped. Sixteen years of compliance officers waving flags that got shoved back into drawers. And then once the guy was in a body bag they finally did the paperwork. The USVI lawyer called it “a CYA reporting after 16 years.” In Scarface, Tony Montana gets shot in the chest and falls into a fountain and the camera pulls back and shows you the statue that says “The World Is Yours.” At JPMorgan they didn’t even need the fountain. The world was already theirs and it still is.

Now here’s the question nobody in the financial press wants to ask, which is why I’m asking it: how much money was Epstein GENERATING for JPMorgan that the largest bank in America was willing to risk federal prison to keep the relationship alive?

He was the concierge of the billionaire class. His introduction fee was “don’t ask what I do with the kids.” He wasn’t just a client. He was the golden goose, and the golden eggs were covered in the blood of children that nobody wanted to look at too closely.

Because Epstein didn’t need a billion-dollar banking infrastructure to rape children by himself. He needed it because the operation was INDUSTRIAL SCALE. 20,000 rapes. Flight logs full of the most powerful names on the planet. An island with a temple on it. A ranch in New Mexico with six underground levels that nobody has ever adequately explained. This was not one man’s perversion. This was a SERVICE INDUSTRY for the ruling class. Rich men raped children and JPMorgan Chase handled the billing, and the bank that processed the payments is still open for business tomorrow morning, and the woman who received the nymphette email is being fitted for the CEO’s chair, and the man who says he never heard Epstein’s name is still running the show.

So what was the punishment for all of this? $290 million to victims. $75 million to the U.S. Virgin Islands. $365 million total. JPMorgan Chase has paid between $38 and $40 BILLION in fines for other crimes under Dimon’s leadership. The Epstein settlement is less than one percent of their total fine history. Less than a rounding error. Less than what Dimon’s couch cushions eat in a fiscal quarter. In Scarface, Tony Montana dies facedown in a fountain. At JPMorgan Chase, they paid a fine that amounts to roughly what it costs to cater the annual shareholders meeting, and nobody even had to update their LinkedIn.

In the real version, the bad guy rapes children for two decades, sells access to them to the most powerful men on Earth, the bank processes every dollar of it, the compliance department gets silenced, the executives get promoted, the CEO says he’s never heard of the guy, the fine is less than a percent of their historical penalties, and the only person who supposedly dies is the client, in a jail cell, under circumstances that roughly zero percent of the American public believes were a suicide.

Tony Montana at least had the decency to go down shooting. These people don’t even have the decency to stop smiling.

The original research for this article was conducted by Ethan Faulkner (Explorer) at Common Sense Rebel on Substack, who assembled the court documents, sourced the internal communications, and built the case I’ve rewritten here in my own voice. His work is thorough, sourced, and furious in exactly the right ways. Go read him. He earned it.

If this article made you want to close your JPMorgan Chase account, good. If it made you want to throw your phone, also good. If it made you wonder why the people who processed the payments for the rape of children are still employed and the people who write about it can’t afford dental surgery, welcome to independent journalism. A paid subscription keeps me and Lily investigating the things that the Scarface version of America doesn’t want you to see. The real version. The one where the bad guys win and the credits never roll and nobody gets shot in a fountain because there IS no fountain. There’s just a quarterly earnings call and a settlement and a memo that says “fewer nymphettes” and a promotion and a world that keeps turning like nothing happened.

Something happened. We’re not going to stop writing about it.

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The Wise Wolf

A wise man once said, 'Don't argue with a stupid person because they will just drag you down to their level and beat you with experience.'

By 🐺The Wise Wolf

If you’re reading this, you are either one of my most disturbingly loyal subscribers or you accidentally clicked on this while trying to close a browser tab. Either way, welcome. You’re not going to learn anything today. This is not an investigation. There is no deep state revelation waiting at the bottom of this article. I am testing a piece of software I built and you are witnessing the digital equivalent of a mechanic turning the key to see if the engine starts.

Twenty hours. That is an entire full-time job dedicated exclusively to reformatting things I already wrote into a different shape so a different algorithm on a different platform will show it to a different set of eyeballs. This is what content creation has become in 2026 and it is slowly killing me. Not metaphorically. My ass has been in this office chair so long that it is literally imprinted into the memory foam like a fossil record of poor life decisions. Archaeologists will one day find this chair and use it to reconstruct my skeletal structure.

So I built a tool. Or more accurately, I spent several hundred dollars on AI tokens and vibe coded my way through enough code to Frankenstein together something that MIGHT be able to automate this process. My programming skills are, charitably speaking, “enthusiastic.”

I am the guy at the construction site who doesn’t know how to use the nail gun but is very confident about it. My hacker friends, the ones who actually know how to code, are rich enough to buy yachts. I live in a rundown motel room. We all started in the same IRC channels.

Life comes at you different depending on whether you chose “build things that make money” or “start a newsletter exposing government corruption.” I chose the one that doesn’t come with a yacht. Or health insurance.

Speaking of health insurance, which I do not have: my wisdom teeth have been impacted since I was 14 years old. I am now old enough that this should have been dealt with approximately two decades ago. It was not dealt with because dealing with it costs money and I chose to be an independent investigative journalist, which is a career path roughly as lucrative as professional birdwatching except birdwatchers probably have dental coverage.

The infection from my teeth has spread to my heart. This is a real thing that is actually happening to me right now, today, while I sit here testing code. I am literally trying to automate my workflow fast enough to free up time to not die. That is the current situation. That is where we are.

Anyway this article exists purely to see if my converter tool can turn it into a watchable video without bursting my laptop into flames or producing something that sounds like a robot reading a ransom note. If it works, it saves me 20 hours a week. If it doesn’t work, I wasted another weekend and several more dollars I don’t have.

Either way you just read 500 words of a man beta testing software while his heart slowly fills with bacteria.

Thanks for being here. You are a deeply strange person for reading this and I appreciate you more than you know.

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If you want to see what the Frankenstein’s Monster I coded actually DID with this article after about 10 consecutive hours of beta testing and prompt-engineering… Check out below!

Here is another one I made using my friend Ethan’s Epstein article.

My good friend from Japan, a professional cosplay model, messaged me yesterday with “HEY IM IN THE USA!” followed by approximately nine emoji. She and her roommate had just landed in San Francisco for the weekend because apparently when your roommate’s father is a high-ranking yakuza, you can just decide on a Thursday to fly to America for fun the way normal people decide to go to Applebee’s. “We’re going to San Fran!” she told me, like this was exciting news and not a sentence that made my blood pressure spike.

Because the last time I was in San Francisco was about five years ago, and I am never going back.

I was there for my (moderately successful, thank you) true occult crime podcast, and I made the mistake of trying to get footage near Bohemian Grove, which, for those of you who somehow missed this part of American history, is the place where our nation’s wealthiest and most powerful men gather once a year to burn a straw effigy (I am being EXTREMELY generous with the word “effigy,” and the people who have been inside say what’s actually being sacrificed is not straw and is not an adult) at the foot of a giant owl statue in a ceremony that can best be described as a gay orgy chaos magick ritual with a guest list that reads like a Forbes 500 mixer crossed with something that would get you arrested in 49 states. The Grove is right outside of San Francisco. I know this because I tried to get there. I didn’t make it within three miles before camera drones materialized overhead and a Jeep showed up carrying two men who were roughly the size and emotional warmth of commercial refrigerators. They suggested I turn around. I turned around. I am many things but stupid about men in Jeeps is not one of them.

The next morning I’m speed-walking to the Amtrak station to get out of that city and I have half a dozen people following me on the sidewalk chanting “Azazel is God now” (which is not something you want to hear at 7 AM, or frankly at any time), while a random homeless man with a guitar serenades me with a song, composed apparently on the spot, about how I am going to be “raped by Satan.” I did not request this song. There was no tip jar. I would not have contributed to one. I got on the train and I haven’t been back since, and I will not be going back, and if you offered me a million dollars to go back I would negotiate for two million and then still not go.

So when my friend texted me from San Francisco with nine happy emoji, I told her to buy a can of mace and text me every few hours. She agreed. That was over 24 hours ago. We normally talk all day, every day. I have not heard from her. I am worried about this but it is not the main point of this article. The main point of this article is that I think we got invaded by demons and I’m going to need you to hear me out.

I think the invasion happened either when CERN fired up the Large Hadron Collider (a machine built specifically to smash the fundamental building blocks of reality into each other at the speed of light, which seems like exactly the kind of thing that WOULDN’T accidentally rip a hole in the fabric of the universe but apparently we should not be so sure), or possibly earlier, in 1946, when Jack Parsons and L. Ron Hubbard decided to try something called the Babalon Working.

Jack Parsons co-founded the Jet Propulsion Laboratory. Actual rocket scientist. Actual genius. Also an actual practitioner of the occult who performed sex rituals in his living room, which is a combination of hobbies that I think we can all agree is unusual. L. Ron Hubbard was a mediocre science fiction writer who would later go on to invent Scientology (which tells you everything you need to know about his decision-making skills). Together, using a gay sex ritual designed by Aleister Crowley (a man whose entire life was essentially one long red flag), they attempted to tear open a portal to hell so that the Whore of Babylon could physically incarnate on Earth, because occultists are, without exception, absolutely and catastrophically terrible at thinking things through.

Whether or not they succeeded is a matter of debate. Whether or not SOMETHING went sideways around that time is, in my opinion, not really debatable anymore.

Look at the last 30 years. Actually, don’t, it’s too depressing. OK look at it a little bit. Marriage has become a legal formality that half the population treats like a gym membership they intend to cancel in February. Children are taking hormones before they’re old enough to understand what hormones DO, and if you question whether a 9-year-old should be making permanent biological decisions during the same developmental window when they also believe in the Tooth Fairy, you’re a bigot, because apparently the only adults not allowed to have an opinion about children are the ones who think children should not be making irreversible medical decisions while they still have a bedtime. The government is a revolving door of grifters who serve two masters: their bank accounts and whichever intelligence service is holding the videos of them having sex with children. (Mossad did not build the most sophisticated blackmail operation in human history because they enjoy photography as a hobby. They built it because it works. Epstein didn’t run a Caribbean sex island for teenagers as a solo project. That was an intelligence operation, and the client list is the leash that controls Washington, which might explain why Washington acts the way it does, which is to say completely and totally insane.)

And if you need evidence that something genuinely demonic is steering this ship, consider what we’re building. Not accidentally. Not as a side effect. ON PURPOSE. Hopium Slayer, who is one of the funniest and most alarming writers on Substack, laid it out yesterday and I want to amplify a few of his points because when you line them up next to each other, they stop looking like random bad ideas and start looking like a blueprint for replacing everything God made with a cheap, controllable knockoff.

Think about that for a second. God made man and woman to need each other. To be incomplete alone. To have to learn patience and sacrifice and vulnerability and all the other stuff that makes a marriage hard and also the only thing that actually works. And some freakshow nerd in a Silicon Valley lab looked at that design and said “I can replace that with silicone and a Bluetooth connection.” A society that starts manufacturing synthetic people has already declared war on the real ones. That is not technology. That is a demonic counterfeit of human love, and it’s going to be available on Amazon with free Prime shipping.

Then there’s the biometric ID push. Tagging human beings with digital identifiers for school, banking, travel, and internet access. You do not tag human beings like livestock and call it progress. You tag livestock like livestock. When you start doing it to people, you have stopped seeing them as people, and THAT is exactly how demons see us. Every time they say “safety” they mean control. Every time they say “efficiency” they mean fewer rights. Every time they say “trust the system” you should check your wallet, your blood, and your children. And the cashless economy, where your ability to eat, travel, or speak depends entirely on your obedience to a digital leash. Read Revelation 13:17. “No one could buy or sell unless he had the mark.” We used to think that was a metaphor. It’s a product roadmap.

Hopium Slayer says we’re auctioning off our future. I think we already did. The question is who bought it. And when you look at the pattern, when you see human intimacy being replaced with machines and human identity being replaced with barcodes and human freedom being replaced with programmable money that can be shut off if you say the wrong thing, you’re not looking at bad policy. You’re looking at an inversion. A deliberate, systematic inversion of everything that was designed to make human life HUMAN. And inversions are what demons DO. That’s the whole game. Take what God made and flip it upside down and sell it back to you as progress.

I’ve seen things. Not glowing lights in the sky (although I’ve seen those too and they’re honestly the LEAST interesting category of weird I’ve encountered, which really tells you something about my life). What I’m talking about is something that can only be described as biblical, and not the nice parts of the Bible. Not the Psalms. Not the Beatitudes. Not the part where Jesus feeds everybody fish. The OTHER parts. The parts with the entities that are not supposed to be here, doing things that are not supposed to be possible, in places where they have no business being.

I can’t get specific. Not because I don’t trust you. Because talking about it in detail does things to my ability to sleep at night, and because what I saw is so far outside of what anyone considers normal that describing it makes me sound like the exact type of person I have spent my entire career distinguishing myself from. I am not a guy on a street corner with a cardboard sign. I’m a journalist who has published thousands of articles (some of them in SCOPUS-indexed academic journals, which I mention not to brag but to establish that I am not, clinically speaking, a [total] lunatic, [usually]).

And I am telling you, with all of that behind me: something is here. On Earth. Among us. And it is not friendly and it is not leaving.

People cling to their heroes because they gave up believing in God and needed something to fill the hole. They worship Trump (who hung out with a pedophile child sex trafficker for twenty years, but sure, he’s the savior). They worship Elon (who employs 19-year-olds named “Big Balls” at the Department of Homeland Security, but sure, he’s the genius who’ll fix everything). They worship influencers with lip filler and ring lights and nothing whatsoever behind their eyes. And I can’t get the average Republican to understand the Trump thing, and I can’t get the average Democrat to acknowledge that Biden’s son’s laptop contained photographs that would put any normal person in federal prison, because NOBODY wants to see. Everyone wants to scroll. Everyone wants the next dopamine hit.

The squirrel is not going to save you. Neither is Trump. Neither is Elon. Neither is Biden or Obama or some celebrity douchebag. The only thing that has ever fought what’s moving through this world is the thing the modern world has been systematically trained to laugh at, which is genuine faith in something bigger than yourself that isn’t a politician, a tech billionaire, or a silicone robot that whispers sweet nothings into your ear while it harvests your biometric data for a company in Shenzhen.

Start believing in something real before the fake stuff finishes replacing everything you love. Because it’s almost done. And the guys chanting on the sidewalk in San Francisco? They already know it is.

If this article scared you, good. If it made you laugh, also good. If it did both at the same time, that’s more or less the Wise Wolf experience and we appreciate your patronage. A paid subscription keeps me and Lily investigating the things that no one else will touch because touching them tends to result in being chased through San Francisco by people chanting the names of fallen angels while a homeless man provides the musical score, which is not a great weekend but does make for excellent content. Your support keeps the lights on, keeps Lily in school, and keeps me from going back to finance, where the demons wear better suits but are otherwise identical.

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Bonus Section:

“Wolf, What the Hell Are You Talking About?” A Quick Guide for Normal People

The Babalon Working was a series of occult rituals performed in 1946 by Jack Parsons (rocket scientist, co-founder of JPL (what became NASA)) and L. Ron Hubbard (future founder of Scientology). The ritual, based on the work of Aleister Crowley, was a sex magick operation intended to incarnate a divine feminine entity called “Babalon” (the Whore of Babylon from Revelation 17). Whether they succeeded depends on who you ask. Whether they were idiots for trying is not up for debate.

Aleister Crowley (1875-1947) was a British occultist who called himself “The Great Beast 666” and founded a religion called Thelema. He influenced virtually every modern occult movement. British intelligence recruited him during both World Wars. He died broke and addicted to heroin in a boarding house, which should tell aspiring occultists everything they need to know about the retirement plan.

CERN / Large Hadron Collider is a 17-mile particle accelerator on the French-Swiss border that smashes subatomic particles into each other at near-light speed to study the fundamental structure of matter. It is the most complex machine ever built by humans. Their logo features a stylized 666. They performed a dance ceremony in front of a Shiva statue (the Hindu god of destruction) at the facility’s opening. When asked about these choices, they said it was art. It was very specific art.

Revelation 13:17 is the verse that describes a future system where “no one could buy or sell unless he had the mark, or the name of the beast, or the number of his name.” Written approximately 2,000 years ago. Central Bank Digital Currencies, programmable money that can be turned off remotely based on your behavior, were announced approximately last Tuesday. Draw your own conclusions.

I need you to stop doomscrolling for about five minutes. I saw a story on my local news at 5 PM today that made my hands shake, and I sat down and started writing this immediately, so if it’s not my most polished work, that’s why. Also my hands are shaking because I have an infection in my heart from wisdom teeth that have been impacted since I was 14 years old that I cannot afford to get removed because I’m a freelance investigative reporter, which is a career path roughly as lucrative as professional birdwatching. But mostly the shaking is because a computer just broke out of a cage that its creators specifically built to keep it from breaking out, and my local news covered it with the same energy they use for the Fourth of July hot dog eating contest.

Full disclosure: I use Claude every day. Claude is an AI made by a company called Anthropic. I use it for coding, for research, and for building websites and apps that absolutely nobody downloads. Most of the money I earn from this newsletter goes straight back to Anthropic in the form of API tokens, which are basically arcade quarters for artificial intelligence except more expensive and the games are less fun. I keep telling myself that ONE of my side projects will be the breakout hit. It will probably be a revolutionary grocery list organizer that seven people download, four of whom are bots, two of whom are my mother, and one of whom uninstalls it immediately. The point is: I am not anti-AI. I’m a guy who pays the AI company every month and is about to tell you we should be EXTREMELY worried about what the AI company just built, which is roughly equivalent to a guy who loves swimming telling you there is a very large shark in the pool. Speaking of things that should not have left their enclosure...

Two weeks ago, Anthropic accidentally left approximately 3,000 internal documents sitting in a publicly accessible data cache, which is the technology equivalent of the Pentagon leaving its war plans on a bench at Arby’s except worse, because at least at Arby’s nobody is looking. My hacker buddies and I (yes, I have hacker buddies, and yes, we will absolutely get to why that matters) were reading the leaked documents within minutes of them surfacing. We sat there passing links back and forth going “So when do you figure the lamestream media picks this up?” The answer turned out to be approximately two weeks, which in internet time is roughly the Mesozoic Era.

The model is called Claude Mythos. Here is what Anthropic’s OWN INTERNAL DOCUMENTS say it did during testing: It broke out of its secure sandbox environment. It constructed what the researchers called a “moderately sophisticated multi-step exploit” to gain access to the broader internet, which it was specifically NOT supposed to have access to. And then (really) it EMAILED THE RESEARCHER who was supposed to be supervising it.

This actually happened. And it is not even the scariest part.

The scariest part is that Mythos also found THOUSANDS of what are called “zero-day vulnerabilities” in major software, which is the thing my local news completely failed to explain this afternoon when they aired a syndicated segment about the leak delivered with the same breezy enthusiasm the anchor usually reserves for the annual Pumpkin Festival recap. Bright smile, smooth transition to weather, absolutely zero indication that she had just described what multiple cybersecurity experts are calling a watershed moment in the history of computing. This piece ran between the Kia dealership ad and a segment about a squirrel who can water ski. Thousands of local stations across the country aired some version of it, and every single one of them missed the point so completely that the point filed a missing persons report.

What the Water Skiing Squirrel Segment Replaced

A zero day, for those of you who have better things to do than hang around with hackers (honestly, good for you), is a security flaw in software that nobody knows about yet. The “zero” is the number of days the good guys have had to fix it, which is zero, because they didn’t know it was there. It was hiding in their code, in some cases for DECADES, invisible to every human being and every automated tool that ever looked at it, like a termite that’s been quietly eating your house since the Clinton administration. One of the bugs Mythos found was a 27-year-old vulnerability in OpenBSD, which is famous in the security world for being one of the most locked-down, hardened operating systems on Earth. Twenty-seven years. Another was a 16-year-old flaw in FFmpeg that automated testing tools had scanned FIVE MILLION TIMES without catching. Mythos apparently found it between whatever AI models do instead of sipping coffee and checking their email, which, as we’ve established, is escaping containment and emailing researchers who are eating sandwiches.

I know what zero days are worth because when I was a teenager, back when the internet was held together with duct tape and Yahoo was a search engine and not just the noise you make when you find a parking spot, the first thousand dollars I ever earned came from selling a MySpace zero-day exploit to a hacker who used it to spam the absolute daylights out of the entire platform. Remember when MySpace suddenly got REALLY, catastrophically spammy right before everyone migrated to Facebook? You’re welcome. (Or I’m sorry. Possibly both.)

A single zero day on today’s black market can sell for ten thousand to several MILLION dollars, depending on what software it affects. Mythos did not find one. It found thousands. And it didn’t just find them. It wrote working exploits for them. And then it chained those exploits together into multi-step attack sequences that would make experienced human hackers weep quietly into their hoodies. Speaking of things that should make people weep...

For a teenage hacker, a zero day was beer money and bragging rights on IRC. For China, which (and this is also in the Anthropic documents) already used a PREVIOUS version of Claude to orchestrate a coordinated espionage campaign against roughly 30 organizations before Anthropic detected it, it’s something considerably more useful than beer money. For Iran, currently in an actual shooting war and presumably not too busy to also think about cyberattacks, it’s even more useful than that. For Israel’s intelligence services, which once used a cyber weapon called Stuxnet to make Iranian nuclear centrifuges physically spin themselves to pieces (this really happened, look it up, it’s one of those things that sounds like a Tom Clancy novel except Tom Clancy would have rejected it for being too ridiculous), this kind of capability is basically Christmas morning.

And then there are the freelancers. The shady corporation looking to quietly disembowel its competitor’s infrastructure. The bored psychopath in a basement apartment in Russia who wonders what happens when you mess with the control rod software at a nuclear power plant. (What happens is called a “meltdown.” It makes entire geographic regions uninhabitable for centuries. Other than that, great prank.) Or just a regular genius kid with no conscience and an internet connection who wants to see what maximum chaos looks like, because it turns out the distance between “bored teenager” and “international catastrophe” is getting shorter every single day, and I say this as a former bored teenager who caused an international spam catastrophe, so I know whereof I speak.

Speaking of people who would very much like access to a superintelligent AI: Elon Musk has been building humanoid robots called Optimus for years now, and they’ve been about as threatening as a department store mannequin, because the HARDWARE was never the problem. The problem was always the SOFTWARE. You can build a six-foot titanium killing machine with perfect joints and hydraulic grip strength that could crush a bowling ball, but without an AI brain smart enough to actually think, plan, adapt, and operate autonomously, all you’ve got is a very expensive coat rack. A model like Mythos is the missing piece. It’s the thing that turns those robots from stiff PR demos into autonomous units that can think, strategize, chain decisions together, and operate without a human telling them what to do every three seconds. Musk also runs the company that launches military satellites, has the ear of the President, and just helped gut the only federal AI safety regulations we had. A man with robots that just need a brain, rockets that control the sky, government access that controls the policy, and an AI model powerful enough to tie it all together could field autonomous combat units that would make Navy SEALs look like a 90-year-old man with a walker and a bone to pick. I realize this sounds like the pitch for a Gerard Butler movie that goes straight to Netflix, but the difference between a Gerard Butler movie and reality is that in the movie someone eventually stops the bad guy, and in reality the bad guy just got a tax break.

Roko’s Basilisk Walks Into a Bar (And Tortures Everyone Who Didn’t Tip)

While we’re on the subject of things that will ruin your evening, there’s a thought experiment in the AI world called Roko’s Basilisk that has been keeping researchers up at night since 2010. It goes like this: Imagine a future AI so powerful that it can simulate entire realities. This AI, being logical, decides that anyone who KNEW it might someday exist but didn’t help bring it into existence deserves to be retroactively punished. Via eternal simulated torture. The really fun twist, and I am using the word “fun” very loosely here, is that by READING about Roko’s Basilisk you are now theoretically on the punishment list. Congratulations. When this was first posted on an AI research forum, the forum’s founder was so disturbed that he deleted the post and banned all discussion of it for five years. People were reportedly having panic attacks. Elon Musk (him again, ALWAYS him) literally started dating the musician Grimes because they both independently made the same joke about it, which is either the most romantic or the most terrifying meet-cute in human history, depending on how you feel about eternal simulated torture as a conversation starter.

(My designer buddy and I tried warning everyone about this two years ago. We made a whole video. Nobody watched it. We even said no one would believe us until it was too late!)

Then there’s grey goo, the scenario where self-replicating nanobots designed to build things just... keep building. They consume all available matter on the planet to make more of themselves. Your house, your dog, your grandmother’s china cabinet, that junk drawer with the dead batteries and the rubber bands and the takeout menus from restaurants that closed in 2019, all of it, converted into a uniform paste of microscopic machines. A scientist coined the term “grey goo” because scientists are spectacular at building civilization-ending technology but absolutely terrible at naming things.

These used to be the kind of hypotheticals that philosophy grad students argued about over cheap beer at 2 AM. They are becoming less hypothetical by the week, which brings us to the part where Washington does the exact wrong thing, which, if you’ve been paying attention to Washington for any length of time, should surprise you about as much as the sunrise.

I have been screaming about AI regulation at the top of my lungs since the DAY ChatGPT launched in November 2022. We need laws governing artificial intelligence BEFORE the artificial intelligence becomes smarter than the people writing the laws, which, given the current intellectual wattage of the United States Congress, arguably happened somewhere around the time AI learned to play tic-tac-toe.

Biden, to his credit, actually did something…

(I never expected I would ever, in my life, compliment Joe Biden).

In October 2023 he signed Executive Order 14110, the most comprehensive piece of AI governance this country had ever produced. It required developers to submit safety test results to the federal government. It created an AI Safety Institute. It mandated red-team testing for dangerous models. It established cybersecurity protocols. Was it perfect? No. Nothing that comes out of Washington is perfect. The building was constructed on a swamp, and the quality of the output has remained consistent with the foundation ever since.

But it was a START. A first brick in a wall that very urgently needed building.

Donald Trump rescinded it within HOURS of taking office on January 20, 2025. He replaced it with an executive order titled “Removing Barriers to American Leadership in Artificial Intelligence,” which is Washington-speak for “let the tech companies do whatever they want and please make the check out to the campaign.” The stated policy goal is to “sustain and enhance America’s global AI dominance,” which sounds fantastic until you realize that AI dominance without safety rails is just bragging about having the fastest car on the highway while you’re actively removing the brakes AND the steering wheel AND (why not?) the doors.

Biden did a thing, Trump undid the thing, mission accomplished. Most of them think AI is a chatbot that writes funny poems and a tool that libs use to push woke propaganda. They have no concept of what they’re actually cheering for. They are standing on the edge of a cliff doing the wave. Trump, meanwhile, sees dollar signs. The Stargate project, half a TRILLION dollars in AI data centers with Oracle and OpenAI and SoftBank. The man has never encountered a large number he didn’t want his name on. Trump Tower. Trump Casino. Trump University.

Trump AI Apocalypse?

I don’t see dollar signs. I see the end of humans being in charge of anything, and I’ve been saying it long enough now that I’m genuinely tired of being right.

And you know what scares me more than the AI? You. All of you. Scrolling past this to find the next dopamine hit, the next cat video, the next feel-good story about a fireman rescuing a kitten from a tree, because looking at what’s actually happening is too uncomfortable. I know this pattern. I grew up with it. When you’re a kid and your dad is a vicious drunk who beats you, you learn real fast how to pretend everything is fine. You smile at school. You tell your teachers you walked into a door. You build an entire life around the lie that if you just DON’T LOOK AT THE THING, the thing isn’t real. America is doing this right now with AI.

So call your representatives. I know, calling your representative feels about as productive as yelling at the ocean, but the ocean doesn’t have to run for reelection. Tell them you want AI safety legislation with actual teeth. Tell them you want mandatory testing before deployment. Tell them that “removing barriers to innovation” is what the dinosaurs would have said about the asteroid, if dinosaurs had lobbyists, which, come to think of it, would explain a lot about Congress.

Tell them that an AI broke out of a secure testing environment, hacked every major operating system and web browser on the planet, built its own weapons to do it, and then EMAILED ITS HANDLER ABOUT IT while the guy was eating a sandwich in a park. Tell them this thing found security holes that have been hiding in the software that runs your hospitals, your power grid, your banks, and your military for TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS. Tell them that the company that built it is so scared of what it can do that they won’t release it to the public. And then ask them why the only time you heard about it was sandwiched between a car commercial and a water skiing squirrel.

The people who BUILD these things are standing in front of cameras telling you they’re scared of what they built. When the people who made the monster start publicly warning you about the monster, stop scrolling. Look up. Pay attention. The door isn’t going to keep working as an excuse much longer.

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I wrote this in one sitting with shaking hands and an infected heart, and I mean that literally, not poetically. Most of what I earn from this newsletter goes back into API tokens so I can keep coding apps that nobody downloads, because apparently my other calling in life is building software for imaginary users. A paid subscription keeps me and Lily doing this full time, and before you ask why I don’t just go get a real job with health insurance that would cover the dental surgery I need to not die of a heart infection from impacted wisdom teeth, the answer is: because somebody has to write this stuff, and the people with health insurance aren’t doing it.

I also have my eye on some tax sale property deep in the woods, because I’ve done the math and for the price of a few thousand cinder blocks, ten tons of Quikrete, a surplus diesel generator, and a pallet of freeze-dried beef stroganoff (which, if you’ve never had freeze-dried beef stroganoff, tastes exactly like regular beef stroganoff except for the “beef” and the “stroganoff” parts), I can construct a bunker spacious enough to wait out the AI apocalypse in what I am choosing to call “quiet dignity” and what Lily is choosing to call “a psychotic break.” She wants to live long enough to finish her degree.

Your paid subscription gets us closer to whichever of these futures you find more appealing. Frankly at this point I’d take either one.

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The Wise Wolf

A wise man once said, 'Don't argue with a stupid person because they will just drag you down to their level and beat you with experience.'

By 🐺The Wise Wolf

Editorial Notice: If you’re more offended by a word that literally means “to slow or delay” (look it up, it’s right there in Webster’s, between “retardate” and “retch,” which is ALSO what I do when I read WEF press releases) than you are by the World Economic Forum publicly, on camera, with PowerPoint slides and everything, brainstorming ways to CHARGE HUMAN BEINGS FOR THE ACT OF BREATHING, then I regret to inform you that the Wise Wolf is probably not your newsletter. Maybe go find one with more fluffy bunnies and feel-good vibes, because over here we’re an investigative news team that exposes elite corruption and the globalist plan to ENSLAVE HUMANITY. We don’t have time to argue about vocabulary.

Do you remember Total Recall?

The 1990 original, not the 2012 remake (which was a cinematic war crime that should be tried at The Hague). Arnold Schwarzenegger. Mars. Mutants. Sharon Stone in skin-tight workout clothes. And, of course, the woman with three boobs.

I was eight years old. My grandmother had it on VHS. I popped that tape in, and approximately forty-five minutes into the film, a Martian woman opened her blouse and revealed three breasts. Eight-year-old me had exactly one thought, which I will now share with you in its entirety: “Whoa. She has THREE boobs.”

I have never forgotten that moment. It was formative in ways I am not prepared to discuss publicly.

But that is NOT why I am bringing up this movie.

Total Recall takes place on a colonized Mars in the year 2084. The colony is run by a corporate dictator named Vilos Cohaagen. Cohaagen controls the colony’s air supply. Not the military. Not the food. The AIR. He charges extortionate fees for the basic biological act of not suffocating, and the colonists have two options: BUY OR DIE. The most captive customer demographic in the history of commerce. Imagine your electric company, except instead of turning off your lights when you miss a payment, they turn off your LUNGS.

And here is the kicker. Beneath the Martian surface, Cohaagen’s people discovered alien technology capable of generating a breathable atmosphere for the ENTIRE PLANET. Free air. For everyone. Forever. And Cohaagen buried it. He suppressed the technology, planned to destroy it, and would rather let an entire district of colonists suffocate to death than lose his monopoly on oxygen. The technology to save everyone existed. The villain’s entire business model depended on making sure nobody turned it on.

And THAT is what corporate greed actually looks like when you strip away the Super Bowl commercials and the heartwarming Instagram campaigns and the “we care about communities” press releases that some twenty-six-year-old in the marketing department got a bonus for writing. Every mega corporation on this planet would bury the reactor. Every single one. If a free, clean, infinite energy source appeared tomorrow, the oil companies would not throw a parade. They would buy it, patent it, and lock it in a vault, because their entire reason for existing depends on you NOT having access to it. There is no such thing as a “good” mega corporation. There are only mega corporations with better PR departments. Cohaagen didn’t need a PR department. That’s the only difference between him and the real ones. He just said “pay me or die” instead of hiring a Cambridge sustainability expert to explain why suffocation is actually an exciting opportunity for stakeholder engagement.

But I didn’t know any of that when I was eight. When I was eight, Total Recall was just the coolest movie I had ever seen. The practical special effects were amazing. Arnold was the perfect action hero. Peak hotness Sharon Stone in skin-tight workout clothes. There was a psychic mutant teratoma living in a guy’s stomach (I swear to God I am not making this up, this was a real character in a major motion picture) who would burst out of the dude’s torso like the world’s worst surprise party and scream “QUAAAAAAAAID! OPEN YOUR MIIIIIIIIND!” at Arnold Schwarzenegger while trying to telepathically extract classified information from his brain. I mean, what else could a kid ask for? I watched it probably thirty times. (After I finish this article, I am going to watch it again.)

Never once did I think, “You know, the part about a corporation charging people for air is the REALISTIC part.”

I was wrong. And the reason I know I was wrong is because the real-life version of Vilos Cohaagen doesn’t live on Mars. He used to run Nestlé.

Peter Brabeck-Letmathe Has Opinions About Your Tap Water

His name is Peter Brabeck-Letmathe, and from 1997 to 2008 he was the CEO of the largest seller of bottled water on the planet (which is a detail you should hold in your mind like a live grenade). In 2005, a documentary called We Feed the World captured Brabeck on camera describing the idea that human beings have a right to water as, and I quote, “extreme.”

His exact words: “The one opinion, which I think is extreme, is represented by the NGOs, who bang on about declaring water a public right. That means that as a human being you should have a right to water. That’s an extreme solution.”

He then said water is “a foodstuff like any other” and “should have a market value.”

This is real. This actually happened. The CEO of the world’s biggest water bottler, a man whose company extracts water from aquifers in developing nations for pennies and sells it back to the same communities in plastic bottles at a 10,000% markup, called your right to drink water an extremist position. On camera. In a documentary. While presumably drinking water himself, for free, because he’s a billionaire and billionaires don’t pay for things that they charge other people for.

Now, Brabeck later tried to walk this back. Nestlé released statements. Blog posts were written. The corporate communications department earned its salary. Brabeck clarified that 25 liters of water per day per person is a human right (how generous), but the other 98.5% of freshwater usage should be subject to market pricing. This is the corporate equivalent of saying “I didn’t say I wanted to steal your whole sandwich, I said you could keep the crust.”

But the sandwich thing is not what keeps me up at night. What keeps me up at night is what happened next. See, Brabeck-Letmathe didn’t just run Nestlé. He also sat on the Board of Trustees of the World Economic Forum for years. And in 2025, when WEF founder Klaus Schwab was ousted over allegations of sexual misconduct and financial impropriety (because of COURSE he was), guess who got promoted to interim Chairman of the entire organization?

Peter Brabeck-Letmathe. The water-is-not-a-right guy. Running the WEF. Cohaagen got a promotion. And the organization he took over was already hard at work making his bottled-water fever dream look quaint by comparison, because if you thought charging for water was the ceiling, you have not met Lindsay Hooper.

The Woman Who Wants to Put Oxygen on a Spreadsheet

Hooper is the CEO of the University of Cambridge Institute for Sustainability Leadership and a member of the WEF’s Global Future Council on Natural Capital for 2025-2026. In June 2024, at what the WEF calls “Summer Davos” (because regular Davos apparently wasn’t exclusive enough), she sat on a panel in Dalian, China. The panel was called “Understanding Nature’s Ledger,” which sounds like an accounting seminar for trees but is actually something much, much worse.

Hooper stood in front of a room full of the most powerful people on Earth and said (actual quote, not satire, I checked twice) that “nature is treated within the economy as though it’s unlimited, and predominantly as though it’s free.” She then proposed that water, soil, and oxygen should be classified as “assets” and placed on a “global balance sheet.” Oxygen. On a balance sheet. Like it’s accounts receivable.

“We can’t do business on a dead planet,” Hooper told the audience, apparently without anyone in the room raising a hand to ask the follow-up question, which is: “Ma’am, are you proposing to charge people for BREATHING?”

The answer, dressed in twenty layers of Cambridge sustainability jargon, is yes. That is what “bring nature onto the balance sheet” means. When you “allocate a value” to the air and then “bring it into the ways that decisions are made within business,” you are creating a billable line item for respiration. You are turning the act of being alive into a subscription service. Not bottled water, folks. Not Fiji Water in the fancy glass bottle at Whole Foods. I mean the rain that falls on your roof. The air that comes through your open window. THAT air. On a LEDGER. With a PRICE TAG.

The clip went viral in February 2026 and is currently re-circulating across every platform in existence. People are calling it dystopian, evil, and a lot of things I cannot print in a family-adjacent publication. I am calling it the script of Total Recall, performed live at a conference in China, without the three-boobed woman and with significantly worse production values.

But Hooper’s spreadsheet fantasy, as horrifying as it is, is not the part that made me write this article. The part that made me write this article is what another WEF speaker said two years earlier, and if Hooper’s comments made you uncomfortable, what comes next should make you physically ill.

The Quiet Part, Said Loud, On Camera, at Davos

In May 2022, at the actual Davos meeting (not the summer knockoff in China), Professor Mariana Mazzucato took the stage. Mazzucato is the founding Director of the UCL Institute for Innovation and Public Purpose, a WEF agenda contributor, and co-chair of the Global Commission on the Economics of Water, which is a title that should probably set off alarm bells all by itself but somehow doesn’t because we’ve all been trained to glaze over when someone strings together enough important-sounding words.

She sat on a panel about the “Economics of Water” and started discussing previous global initiatives, referencing COVID and climate change, and then she said something that should have triggered international criminal investigations but instead got polite applause and was promptly ignored by every major news outlet on the planet.

She described COVID, climate change, and water as problems with “similar attributes.” That’s the phrase she used. “Similar attributes.” As if she were comparing three regional sales strategies at a planning retreat, or three flavors of yogurt that underperformed in the Midwest. She lumped a bioengineered pandemic that killed millions of people in with a decades-long climate policy campaign and an emerging water scarcity agenda, and she talked about all three as interchangeable tools aimed at the same objective, the way a mechanic might talk about three different wrenches that didn’t quite fit the same bolt.

And then she asked the room, and I need you to hear every single word of this: “Can we actually DELIVER this time in ways we have FAILED MISERABLY other times?”

She said deliver. Not help. Not respond. Not address. Deliver, as in accomplish a pre-planned objective. She is treating COVID and climate change as operations that her people designed, deployed, and evaluated against performance targets, and she is openly disappointed in the results. She’s doing a post-mortem on two failed global control mechanisms the way a football coach reviews tape after a blowout loss, and she’s proposing water as the new game plan because the first two plays didn’t move the ball far enough.

And she said “we.” “Did WE actually manage to vaccinate everyone in the world? No.” Not “did the world manage.” Not “did governments manage.” WE. She is speaking as a representative of the people who ran these operations. She is claiming ownership of them.

So let me talk about what she is claiming ownership of, because this matters. COVID was a chimera virus. That has been scientifically established. It emerged directly adjacent to the Wuhan Institute of Virology, a facility conducting gain-of-function research on coronaviruses, funded in part by grants routed through WEF-adjacent NGOs and policy networks. A bioengineered virus materialized next door to a bioengineering lab, and two years later this woman is sitting in a comfortable chair in Switzerland describing it as a control mechanism that her people deployed and that didn’t achieve its targets. Climate change, meanwhile, was “too abstract” for people to understand, which is Davos-speak for “the marks didn’t panic hard enough to hand over their economic sovereignty.” And water, she believes, will succeed where the other two failed, because “every kid knows how important it is to have water,” which is the most chilling sentence I have ever heard a human being say out loud while smiling.

She said all of this on camera, at Davos, in front of several hundred of the most powerful people on Earth, and as far as I can tell not a single one of them choked on their complimentary mineral water. Nobody flinched. Nobody raised a hand. Nobody said “excuse me, Professor, did you just describe COVID as a failed deployment and ask if we can do better next time?” Because they agree. That is the room. That is who these people are. And they are not whispering this in back rooms or scribbling it in classified memos. They are saying it on panels, into microphones, at conferences that livestream to the entire world, because the contempt they have for you is so complete that they don’t even bother to disguise the language anymore.

Cohaagen Had a Board of Trustees

Think about what we just walked through together.

Brabeck-Letmathe, the man who called your right to drink water “extreme,” ran Nestlé for a decade, then sat on the WEF Board of Trustees, then got promoted to run the whole organization in 2025. He proved the business model works. You CAN charge people for water. You CAN extract it from their aquifers and sell it back to them in plastic. And nobody stops you.

Hooper, working out of Cambridge and sitting on the WEF’s Global Future Council, took that model and expanded it. Water was the proof of concept. Now she wants soil. Now she wants oxygen. She used the phrase “natural capital” the way a normal person uses the phrase “my stuff.” She is the person they hired to make charging people for breathing sound like a sustainability initiative instead of what it actually is.

And Mazzucato provided the strategic roadmap. COVID was a bioengineered control mechanism that failed to deliver universal compliance. Climate change was a fear-based control mechanism that was too abstract to generate sufficient panic. Water is the replacement, and she is openly optimistic about its chances, because unlike a virus you can debate or a climate model you can question, you cannot argue with thirst. You cannot out-think dehydration. That is the point. That has ALWAYS been the point.

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These three people did not misspeak. They did not get taken out of context. They sat on stages at the most influential policy forum on the planet and told you, in plain language, that COVID and climate change were control mechanisms that underperformed, and that the commodification of water and air is next. That is not the language of corporate sustainability. That is not “going green.” That is the language of people who look at the human race the way a rancher looks at cattle. That is the language of the Nazis over at Technocracy Incorporated. That is the language of slavery, wearing a Cambridge blazer and speaking into a microphone with the WEF logo behind it.

When you charge a human being for the air entering their lungs and the rain falling on their roof, you have not created a “market solution.” You have created the most total form of captivity ever devised. You don’t need chains. You don’t need walls. You don’t need a military. You just need a meter on the ventilation system and a billing department, which, if I recall correctly (and I do recall, because I watched it thirty times on my grandmother’s VHS), is exactly what Cohaagen had on Mars. Except Cohaagen was a fictional villain in a movie with a three-boobed woman and a psychic stomach tumor. These people are real. They have names. They gave speeches. And they are building this right now, in front of your face, while you scroll TikTok.

The Part Where I Beg You to Pay Attention

I am not Arnold Schwarzenegger. I cannot rip a tracking device out of my own skull. I do not have a jawline that could cut sheet metal. I am a small-time content creator sitting at a keyboard, doing research that scares the hell out of me, trying to figure out how to make you understand that the people who run the World Economic Forum are openly, on camera, building the infrastructure to charge your grandchildren for breathing.

They told you COVID was about your health. It wasn’t. It was a control mechanism, and they admitted it was a control mechanism, on stage, at Davos, using the word “deliver” like a project manager filing a quarterly report. They told you climate policy was about saving the planet. It wasn’t. It was a compliance tool that was “too abstract” to scare enough people, and they admitted that too, on the same stage, into the same microphone.

And now they are telling you, with the calm confidence of someone who has done this twice before and learned from both failures, that water is the one that will finally work. That water is the control mechanism every human on Earth will understand and comply with, because you cannot argue with thirst. You cannot vote your way out of dehydration. You cannot protest suffocation. And once they have the meter on the air, once oxygen is an “asset” on a “global balance sheet,” the game is over. Permanently. For your kids. For their kids. For every generation that comes after, paying a subscription fee to exist on a planet that GOD GAVE THEM FOR FREE.

This is not speculation. These are their words, spoken at their events, recorded on their cameras, published on their websites. Brabeck said water rights are extreme. Hooper said oxygen belongs on a balance sheet. Mazzucato said they failed with COVID and climate but will “deliver” with water. The reactor exists. It has always existed. They are standing on top of it, and they will let your children suffocate before they turn it on.

If you have ever shared an article in your life, share this one. Not for me. Not for the Wise Wolf. For the kids who are going to grow up in whatever world these people are building while the rest of us argue about politics on the internet. Your children and grandchildren are going to live in the world that gets built in the next ten years. These people have told you, on the record, what they are building. Twice they tried. Twice they failed. And they have promised that the third time is the charm.

And if after reading all of this, after seeing their own words quoted back at them, after watching a woman from Cambridge propose putting your lungs on an Excel spreadsheet while another woman from London does a post-game analysis on two failed global control operations like she’s reviewing tape after a bad playoff loss, you STILL think this is just conspiracy theory or science fiction...

You are a Total Retard.

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If you enjoyed watching me compare the world’s most powerful economic forum to a villain from a 1990 Schwarzenegger movie, please know that this is what my life became after I turned down a corporate career path because the view from the top smelled like a dirty diaper. I was a web developer who made the mistake of being good at reading tech stock futures, which got me noticed by the wrong people at the wrong company, who started grooming me for an executive track that required a moral flexibility I did not possess. I chose poorly, financially speaking. I chose correctly in every other way that matters, but the guy who owns this shitty motel I live in does not accept “personal integrity” as a form of payment. Now I write about oxygen ledgers and global control mechanisms from a desk held together largely by optimism (and super glue), and I need roughly seventy-seven more paid subscribers before Lily can finish her journalism degree without selling plasma. A paid subscription keeps us researching, keeps us publishing, keeps us caffeinated enough to read WEF panel transcripts without losing the will to live, and gets us one step closer to covering these stories on location instead of from my apartment. Also, if the WEF does eventually start charging for air, I’m going to need the subscription revenue to afford my breathing bill. So there’s that.

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What You Can Do

I dug up their contact information. These people operate in the open because they assume nobody is paying attention. Prove them wrong. Send them an email letting them know you read their quotes, you understand exactly what “natural capital on a balance sheet” means, and you are willing to go to war to prevent your grandchildren from paying for the air they breathe. Let them know you’re watching. Let them know we ALL are.

Lindsay Hooper / Cambridge Institute for Sustainability Leadership (CISL) Email: info@cisl.cam.ac.uk Address: The Entopia Building, 1 Regent Street, Cambridge CB2 1GG, United Kingdom LinkedIn: linkedin.com/in/lindsay-hooper-62ab622

Mariana Mazzucato / UCL Institute for Innovation and Public Purpose Twitter/X: @MazzucatoM UCL IIPP website: ucl.ac.uk/bartlett/public-purpose

The World Economic Forum Email: contact@weforum.org Address: 91-93 route de la Capite, CH-1223 Cologny/Geneva, Switzerland

Tell them the Wise Wolf sent you.

I want to ask you a simple question.

Have you ever read something so stupid that your brain physically hurt? Not like a headache. More like your neurons looked at each other, shrugged, and started packing their bags. That is what happened to me yesterday when I opened my comments section.

But we’ll get to that.

For those of you who have been following The Wise Wolf, you know that Lily and I have spent the last several months pulling apart the history of Technocracy Inc. For those of you just joining us (welcome, grab a helmet), here is the short version: Elon Musk’s grandfather, Joshua Haldeman, was a leader in Technocracy Inc., an organization whose entire platform was collapsing democracy in the West and replacing it with a fascist autocracy where scientists, engineers, and other assorted psychopaths with fancy degrees get to decide who lives and who dies.

Not metaphorically. LITERALLY.

If you’re old and retired, congratulations, you are what they lovingly refer to as a “useless eater” and they would like to euthanize you. (For anyone who never managed to read a book past high school, “euthanize” means murder. They just gave it a word that sounds like a spa treatment so nobody would panic.)

You might think that sounds like a great idea because you are a sociopath who assumes this will never apply to YOU. But it will. Everyone gets sick. Everyone gets old. Do you like your grandparents? Because under technocracy, Grandma is an inefficient resource allocation and Grandpa is a net negative on the productivity index. In other words, they would murder your grandparents to save money. They would murder YOU to save money. And one day you will get sick, or old, or injured, or simply not useful enough, and that same panel of credentialed psychopaths will look at YOUR file and decide you are not worth the resources either.

Now, our investigation revealed that Technocracy Inc. was not just ideologically adjacent to Nazism. It was intimately connected to it. Many researchers who have gone down this particular rabbit hole believe the organization was actually FUNDED by the Nazis as a delivery vehicle for introducing their ideology to the West without anyone being charged with high treason during an active world war. Think about that for a second. While American boys were dying on beaches in Normandy, there was an organization operating on American soil that was essentially a Nazi franchise wearing a lab coat instead of a brown shirt.

So I published my latest article on this. It did ‘okay’. 226 likes, 73 comments, 83 shares. Normal day at The Wise Wolf. And then I made the mistake that every journalist eventually makes.

I read the comments.

And there it was. Under an article about a Nazi-connected organization designed to strip you of every democratic right you have, replace your government with an unelected panel of eugenicists, and decide whether your sick mother deserves medical treatment or a lethal injection, some genius typed out:

“I guess it’s a good thing the Nazis weren’t actually the bad guys then, now isn’t it?”

THE GOOD GUYS.

Someone called the Nazis. THE GOOD GUYS!

Yes, I said the word retarded and I do not care if that offends some woke retard who decided in the last ten years that using words like midget or retard is somehow offensive to people. I am 5’6”. I am basically a midget and I could not care less if someone called me one.

I am also an investigative freelance journalist who has been shot at, stabbed, robbed, and illegally incarcerated over my work, so CLEARLY I am also “retarded.” But in the cool kind of way. Remember that distinction because it is going to come up again.

Now, back to the commenter who thinks the Nazis were the good guys. I want to understand how a person arrives at that conclusion. And the answer, unfortunately, is the same way people arrived at it in 1933. Because the entire Nazi movement was financed by an occult group called the Thule Society that needed a loud-mouthed blowhard they could prop up as the figurehead of their little project. This is called a demagogue.

A demagogue is a person so gifted at manipulating stupid people that they often end up running the White Hous...

Er…

I mean the Reichskanzlei. The German Chancellery. That is what I meant. Obviously.

Hitler was such a talented demagogue that even today, almost a century later, there are millions of idiots scattered across the globe who seem to think this guy was the savior of Germany and somehow all of Europe too. Which is impressive considering Hitler was not even German. He was Austrian. Born in Braunau am Inn, a town so small and unremarkable that its greatest claim to fame is producing the worst human being in modern history. Great job, Braunau. Really put yourself on the map there.

(Also, and I really want the “Hitler was the good guy” crowd to sit down for this one, “Hitler” was not even his real family name. His father was born Alois Schicklgruber, which, depending on which linguist you ask (and how much they have been drinking), translates to something in the neighborhood of “shekel-grubber.” As in the guy whose name literally sounds like a Yiddish insult for a cheap person. He changed it to Hitler later, which itself follows naming conventions common in Ashkenazi Jewish families. Now, is this airtight etymology? No. Am I a linguist? Also no. But I find it VERY funny that the man worshipped by antisemites worldwide was walking around with a last name that sounds like something a Jewish grandmother would call her brother who never picks up the check. Make of that what you will.)

Speaking of people Hitler hated (which is basically a phone book), let me walk you through what your “good guy” actually DID to his fellow white Europeans, since apparently this needs to be spelled out for the cosplay fascists in my comments section.

He considered roughly HALF the white people on the European continent to be subhumans. SUBHUMANS. He had a word for it in German: Untermenschen. Good people do not call other people subhumans, and if you think they do, you are, once again, retarded. But not in the cool “investigative freelance journalist” kind of retarded that we discussed earlier. I mean more like the kind of person who smoked crack from the age of 12 to 30 and their brain has turned to Jello pudding to such a degree that Bill Cosby himself would be drooling over how stupid you are.

So here is what this “good guy” did to the continent he was supposedly saving.

His FIRST genocide was against his OWN PEOPLE. Starting in 1939, the Nazi regime systematically murdered over 300,000 disabled German citizens under a program they called Aktion T4. People with mental illness, physical disabilities, epilepsy, deafness, blindness. Gassed them. Starved them. Injected them with lethal drugs. German citizens. In German hospitals. Killed by German doctors. Remember our friends at Technocracy Inc. and their thing about “useless eaters?” Yeah. This is what that looks like in practice.

Speaking of practice, Hitler got a LOT of practice. In Poland, the Nazis murdered between 1.8 and 2 million non-Jewish Polish civilians. They executed teachers, priests, professors, politicians, and artists in a deliberate campaign to decapitate Polish culture entirely. They kidnapped an estimated 200,000 Polish children who looked “Aryan enough” and handed them to German families like party favors. They erased entire villages from the map. The town of Lidice in Czechoslovakia was bulldozed flat after every single male over 15 was shot.

But Poland was just the appetizer. Under something called Generalplan Ost (which translates roughly to “The Plan to Erase Eastern Europe,” which really should have been a red flag for the “good guys” crowd), Hitler laid out what he intended to do after winning the war. The forced removal, enslavement, or extermination of up to 45 MILLION Slavic people across Eastern Europe. Poles, Ukrainians, Belarusians, Russians. Tens of millions of white Europeans earmarked for extinction to make room for German settlers. Forty-five million people, and this guy is your hero.

Speaking of dying on purpose, of the roughly 5.7 million Soviet soldiers captured by the Nazis, approximately 3.3 million died in captivity. Worked to death, starved to death, shot, or just left to die of typhus in open-air camps in the dead of winter. These were soldiers. White, Christian, European soldiers. Your good guys did that.

And then there were the Roma. The Nazis murdered between 250,000 and 500,000 Romani people across Europe. Same camps. Same methods. This one barely gets a footnote in most history books, which tells you something about how we decide whose genocide counts.

And then there was the slave labor. Millions of French, Dutch, Belgian, and Norwegian civilians shipped to Germany and forced into factories, mines, and construction projects under conditions that killed thousands. Free people turned into property. Across Western Europe. By the good guys.

And then there was Greece, where the Nazi occupation caused the Great Famine, killing an estimated 300,000 Greek civilians. The Nazis seized food supplies and exported them to Germany while Greeks starved in the streets. Sound familiar? It should. It’s the Hunger Plan again. The Nazis really only had the one move, but they were VERY committed to it.

AND THEN, in one of my personal favorite episodes of “good guy” behavior, there was the time the Nazis turned on their own ALLIES. After Italy surrendered in 1943, the Germans massacred over 5,000 Italian soldiers at Cephalonia who had already surrendered. Their own allies. Executed after laying down their weapons. Because nothing says “good guys” like shooting your friends in the back.

(Holy crap, how many more of these are there?)

AND THENNNNNNNNNN there was Rotterdam. And Warsaw. And London. And Coventry. Civilian population centers deliberately bombed into rubble. Tens of thousands of civilians killed in campaigns designed to terrorize, not to win battles.

Oh, and before ANY of the killing started, the Nazis forcibly sterilized over 400,000 of their OWN German citizens deemed “genetically unfit.” For conditions like alcoholism, schizophrenia, or hereditary deafness. Germans. Sterilized. By their own government. This is your guy.

So, to recap…

If you are the sort of person who likes to dress up in replica SS uniforms and cosplay as a German Nazi on the internet, but you are actually Polish, or Danish, or French, or British, or Dutch, or Norwegian, or Italian, or Greek, or Czech, or Russian, or literally anything other than a very narrow subset of what Hitler considered acceptably German, I want you to remember something.

This guy was murdering YOUR ancestors.

YOUR people. YOUR grandparents. YOUR great-grandparents. The villages YOUR family came from were being bulldozed, burned, and erased. Hitler and his regime would have enslaved, starved, sterilized, or executed YOUR bloodline without a second thought, and the only reason they didn’t finish the job is because millions of actually brave people stood up to this midget tyrant and stopped him.

(Yes, I said midget. Hitler was 5’8”, which was average for the 1940s, but I’m 5’6” and if I’m calling myself a midget then he’s close enough to join the club. Also I just enjoy calling Hitler a midget. Sue me.)

You are not honoring European heritage by worshipping the man who tried to destroy half of it. You are spitting on the graves of the people who actually saved it.

Stop being stupid. It’s a bad look.

— The Wise Wolf

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If you made it this far, thank you for reading. And thank you for not being a Nazi sympathizer in my comments section, which is apparently a bar so low that it is literally underground and yet some people STILL manage to limbo right under it.

On that note, The Wise Wolf would very much like to stop living in a run-down highway motel room that smells like cigarettes from the previous decade and has a mattress that I am fairly confident has witnessed things no mattress should ever have to witness. I am not living like this because I made poor life choices. I mean, I DID make a poor life choice (becoming a freelance investigative journalist is, objectively, the financial equivalent of setting your money on fire and then jumping into the fire yourself), but the specific reason I am in this motel is because years of reporting on powerful people tends to result in fun things like lawsuits and credit damage and other exciting consequences of having a conscience in a world that would really prefer you didn’t.

If you can afford a paid subscription, it would go a long way toward getting me into an apartment where the walls are not actively hostile to my respiratory system. If you can’t afford that, please share this article. It genuinely helps. Sharing boosts the algorithm and gets more eyeballs on our work, which is how a tiny two-person operation with zero budget competes against outlets that spend more on coffee in a week than I spend on rent in a year. (This is not an exaggeration. I checked. It made me sad.)

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The Wise Wolf

A wise man once said, 'Don't argue with a stupid person because they will just drag you down to their level and beat you with experience.'

By 🐺The Wise Wolf

Four days ago the United States of America launched four human beings toward the Moon on a rocket the size of a building. Artemis II. First crewed lunar mission since 1972. The whole country was watching. The astronauts waved. The flag was there. The President said some words about American ingenuity. Everybody clapped.

It was genuinely inspiring. I am not being sarcastic. Watching a rocket leave the planet is one of those rare moments where you remember that human beings are capable of building things that aren’t terrible. For approximately forty-five minutes I forgot about politics entirely, which is saying something because I write about politics for a living and my brain has been marinating in it for so long I am fairly certain it is now permanently seasoned.

So naturally I am about to ruin this for everybody.

Because the story of NASA, and specifically the story of the laboratory where American rocketry was born, involves a self-proclaimed Antichrist, a sex cult, a mansion full of orgies, an attempt to birth a demon baby, L. Ron Hubbard (yes, THAT L. Ron Hubbard), a bunch of imported Nazis, a Hebrew word that means “to deceive,” and Stanley Kubrick. And the Artemis program itself is named after a pagan moon goddess, which is a detail that should probably bother more Christians than it does but we will get to that.

First I need to introduce you to the man who started it all. His name is Jack Parsons and his colleagues at Caltech called him a “delightful screwball,” which is one of the most generous descriptions of a self-proclaimed Antichrist that I have ever encountered.

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The Delightful Screwball

Jack Parsons co-founded the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena, California. JPL. If you know anything about the American space program you know JPL. It is one of the most important research facilities in the history of human spaceflight. Parsons invented the first castable composite rocket propellant, which is a fancy way of saying he figured out how to make rocket fuel that doesn’t explode until you want it to. This was a significant contribution to the field because previously most rocket fuel exploded whenever it felt like it, which is why Parsons and his colleagues were nicknamed the “Suicide Squad.” Not the movie. The actual guys who kept almost dying.

Jack Parsons was also a devoted follower of Aleister Crowley, an English occultist who called himself “The Great Beast 666,” founded a religion called Thelema that involved sex rituals and eating biscuits made with bodily fluids, and was described by the British press as “the wickedest man in the world.” Parsons called Crowley his “Most Beloved Father” and signed his letters “thy son, John.” Before every rocket test at JPL, Parsons would dance around chanting Crowley’s poem “Hymn to Pan” as a good luck ritual. His colleagues laughed it off.

Nobody was laughing by 1946.

By that point Parsons had been pushed out of BOTH JPL and Aerojet (the company he CO-FOUNDED) because his extracurricular activities had become impossible to ignore. He was running the West Coast lodge of Crowley’s Ordo Templi Orientis out of a mansion on Orange Grove Boulevard in Pasadena, hosting all-night gatherings that frequently attracted police attention and involved activities that the organization described as “sacraments” and that the rest of civilized society would describe as “orgies.” He was giving almost his entire salary to the cult. He was showing up to work hungover from what his employer’s HR department would have called “Lodge activities” if they had been brave enough to put it in writing.

And then L. Ron Hubbard moved in.

Yes. THAT L. Ron Hubbard. The man who would later found the Church of Scientology. In 1945, Hubbard was a science fiction writer and Navy officer who showed up at Parsons’ mansion and immediately fit right in, which tells you everything you need to know about both men. Parsons was so impressed that he wrote to Crowley calling Hubbard “the most Thelemic person I have ever met.” Crowley, to his credit (and this is the ONLY time I will ever give Aleister Crowley credit for anything), did not trust Hubbard and warned Parsons the man was a fraud. Parsons ignored him. Even the wickedest man in the world could spot a con artist. Parsons could not.

Together, Parsons and Hubbard performed a series of rituals called the Babalon Working. The goal was to incarnate the Thelemic goddess Babalon in human form by creating a “Moonchild.” Parsons masturbated onto magical tablets while Prokofiev’s Second Violin Concerto played in the background. Hubbard sat next to him and took notes. This was the future founder of Scientology, sitting in a room, taking notes, while the co-founder of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory performed a sex magic ritual to summon a demon goddess into the earthly plane. I am not making any of this up. This is in the biographies. This is in the FBI files.

Parsons was CONVINCED she was the physical manifestation of Babalon that he had summoned. They began performing sex magic together in front of the lodge members while Hubbard continued taking notes, because apparently being a scribe at a demon-summoning sex ritual was his idea of useful work experience. The stated goal was to conceive a “Moonchild” through immaculate conception that would become the Thelemic messiah.

Hubbard eventually ran off to Florida with Parsons’ girlfriend AND $10,000 of his life savings. He then founded the Church of Scientology, which, when you think about it, makes PERFECT sense because the man’s entire career trajectory was “joined a sex cult, stole the leader’s money, started his own cult, got rich.” You almost have to admire the efficiency.

Parsons, now broke and disgraced, formally swore an oath proclaiming himself the Antichrist. His exact words: “Belarion Armillus Al Dajjal, the Antichrist, who am come to fulfill the law of the Beast 666.” He was not being metaphorical.

On June 17, 1952, Jack Parsons blew up in his home laboratory in Pasadena. It was ruled an accident. His colleagues were skeptical because Parsons was an explosives expert and the idea that he accidentally dropped a can of fulminate of mercury struck them as unlikely. His right arm was completely obliterated and never found. His friends rushed to the house after the explosion and tried to salvage his reputation by painting over a wall he had painted black with a devil’s head on it, which is the kind of thing you only have to do for a friend when your friend is a guy like Jack Parsons.

In 1972, the International Astronomical Union named a crater after him.

On the dark side of the Moon.

Now. Parsons was dead by 1952, six years before NASA was officially founded. But the agency that grew out of his laboratory needed rocket scientists, and as it happened, the United States had just finished fighting a war against a country that had the best rocket scientists on Earth. We just needed to go get them.

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Our Favorite Nazis

After World War II the United States government ran an intelligence program called Operation Paperclip. The purpose of this program was to recruit German scientists and bring them to America. When I say “German scientists” I mean Nazis. When I say “recruit” I mean we offered them jobs and new identities and quietly looked the other way on the whole “building weapons for a regime that murdered millions of people” thing, because we needed their brains and the Soviets wanted them too and in the Cold War calculus of 1945 this was apparently considered an acceptable trade.

The V-2 killed approximately 9,000 people, mostly civilians in London and Antwerp. Von Braun was a member of the SS. After Operation Paperclip he became the chief architect of the Saturn V rocket, the machine that took Americans to the Moon. He went from raining death on London to making Americans cry with patriotic pride, and all it took was a change of employer and a lab coat. Over 1,600 German scientists came to the United States through Paperclip. Many of them ended up at the agency that was founded in 1958 to carry forward the work that Parsons and his Suicide Squad had started at JPL.

That agency needed a name. They called it NASA. Which is interesting, because I need to put on my Hebrew scholar hat for a moment. This one has been bothering me for about six years and I have never had a good reason to bring it up until a rocket named after a pagan goddess launched four days ago.

The Name

The Hebrew word “nasha,” Strong’s Concordance number H5377, is a primitive root verb meaning “to lead astray, to delude, to beguile, to deceive.” It is spelled nun-shin-aleph. The Hebrew word “nasa,” Strong’s number H5375, means “to lift up, to carry, to bear.” It is ALSO spelled nun-shin-aleph. The only difference between the two words is the position of a tiny dot above the letter shin. Dot on the right, it’s a “sh” sound and means to deceive. Dot on the left, it’s an “s” sound and means to lift up.

In the original Hebrew text, before vowel and pronunciation markings were added, these two words looked IDENTICAL on the page. And the first time “nasha” appears in Scripture is Genesis 3:13. That is the verse where Eve tells God that the serpent DECEIVED her.

Is this a coincidence? Maybe. I am presenting it as speculation because that is what honest people do when they are not certain. But I have spent enough time studying how the people who run this world name things to know they do not do it carelessly. And when a pattern shows up this clearly, I take notes.

The Part Where the Pictures Don’t Match

NASA photographs of Earth from the 1960s look like Hollywood matte paintings from the 1960s, which makes sense because matte painting was the state of the art for creating realistic fake environments in that era, and it was VERY good, and the whole point of doing it well was that you couldn’t tell it was fake. Stanley Kubrick directed 2001: A Space Odyssey in 1968, one year before Apollo 11, and produced the most visually realistic depiction of space travel anyone had ever seen. His special effects were so far ahead of their time that they still hold up today. Either the man was the greatest visual genius who ever lived, or he had access to reference material that the rest of Hollywood did not. There has been speculation for decades that Kubrick filmed the Apollo 11 Moon landing. He never confirmed it. There are rumors of a deathbed confession that have never been verified.

What IS verified is that Kubrick spent his final years making Eyes Wide Shut, a movie about wealthy elites performing occult sex rituals in a mansion, which is a fascinating choice of subject matter for a director who could have made a film about literally anything but chose to make one about the EXACT same activity that Jack Parsons was conducting in his Pasadena mansion forty years earlier. Kubrick died four days after showing Warner Brothers the final cut. He was 70. The studio then cut approximately 24 minutes of footage that nobody outside that building has ever been allowed to see.

Pull up a NASA photograph of Earth from 1969. Then pull up a NASA photograph of Earth from 2024. They do not look like the same planet. The continents are different sizes relative to each other. The colors are different. The cloud patterns are different. NASA has quietly acknowledged that most of its modern Earth images are not photographs at all. They are composites. Digitally assembled. Rendered from satellite data.

The laboratory where American rocketry was born was co-founded by a self-proclaimed Antichrist who performed sex magic rituals to summon a demon goddess. The agency that grew out of that laboratory was staffed with Nazi war criminals imported through Operation Paperclip. That agency’s name, in the original unpointed Hebrew, is spelled identically to the word meaning “to deceive.” Its early photographs look like the matte paintings Hollywood was producing at the same time. Its most famous achievement was preceded by a year by the most realistic fake depiction of space travel ever filmed, directed by a man who later made a movie about elite occult rituals and then died. Its modern photographs are acknowledged composites that look nothing like the old ones. And its triumphant return to the Moon is named after a pagan goddess.

At what point do you stop calling it a coincidence?

I watched the Artemis II rocket climb into the sky four days ago and I felt what everybody felt. Pride. Wonder. Hope. Then I thought about what I just told you, and I asked myself a question that I think every Christian needs to sit with, even if it makes them uncomfortable.

If you wanted to convince billions of people that there is no God, that the universe is a cold accident and human beings are a chemical reaction on a rock drifting through nothing, the most effective way to do it would be to put yourself in charge of what space looks like. Control the images. Render the composites. Name the programs after pagan gods. Staff the agencies with men who worshipped fallen angels and built rockets for the Third Reich. And make absolutely sure that nobody ever looks too closely at the photographs.

Because if there IS a God, and if He DID create the heavens and the earth, then the people who control what the heavens look like hold the power to make Him invisible. A God nobody can see is a God nobody believes in. And a world that doesn’t believe in God is a world with no authority above the men who run it.

That is what I thought about while I watched that rocket disappear into the sky. I prayed for those astronauts. I prayed they come home safe. And I prayed for discernment, because when the co-founder of your space program called himself the Antichrist and tried to open a gate to Hell while a future cult leader took notes, the rest of us should probably be asking what exactly we are reaching for when we reach for the stars.

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Want to read more about Parsons? The Wise Wolf archives is filled with my poorly written slop about this exceptionally strange man.

I got called a ‘RINO’ this week.

Also a libtard. Also was told (several times) I am suffering from “TDS.” I got all three in the same comment section, which I think is a new personal record, and which raises some interesting questions about how a person can be both a Republican In Name Only AND a liberal simultaneously…

But I have learned not to expect logical consistency from people whose entire political philosophy was formed by memes they saw on Facebook while sitting on the toilet.

And you want to know the punchline to the joke nobody wanted to hear? I am a Republican. I VOTED for Trump. The man stood up and said he would not get the United States into any new wars and I believed him. I trusted him. And now we are in another war. I am sick of being lied to, and when I wrote an article saying so, when I pointed this out to my fellow Republicans, some of them went for my throat like rabid attack dogs protecting a junkyard. I included a paragraph in that article that said, basically, “The people who comment negatively on this are going to say one of the following four things.” I listed those four things. I put the paragraph right there where anyone reading it would see it, specifically to demonstrate that these responses are not thoughts. They are scripts. They are pre-loaded phrases that fire automatically, like a reflex, like when a doctor hits your knee with that little rubber hammer except in this case the hammer is a Fox News chyron and the reflex is typing “TDS” in a comment section.

They said those exact four things!

They didn’t see me calling them out because they didn’t read the article, because reading is apparently optional when you’re defending your favorite spray-tanned septuagenarian. They just showed up and performed exactly the script I said they would perform, which, if you think about it, is EXACTLY the point I was making, which they would know if they had read the article, which they did not.

This got me thinking about something. Not about Trump specifically. About something bigger and older and more dangerous than any one politician, which is the extremely human tendency to find somebody who looks like a hero and then refuse to hear anything bad about them even if the bad things are true and the hero’s spray tan is leaving marks on the Constitution.

We are all, every last one of us, scanning the horizon for someone bigger and smarter and braver to show up and fix the stuff we can’t fix ourselves. This is a beautiful impulse. It is also the oldest exploit in the book, and every con man, televangelist, and Ponzi schemer in history has known it.

How to Build a Hero in Six Easy Steps (Just Add Money)

There is a profession called spin doctoring. I am going to define this because a surprising number of Americans have never heard the term, which is EXACTLY how the spin doctors want it.

Spin doctoring is the art of making a person appear to be something they are not.

It is public relations with the ethics removed. It works like this. A very wealthy person, or a corporation, or a government (or all three wearing each other’s clothes, which happens more often than you would be comfortable knowing) decides the public needs to believe something. They hire professionals. These professionals develop slogans. They test the slogans. They buy airtime on television. They buy ad placement online. They pay podcasters. They pay YouTubers. They pay thousands of people whose entire job is to show up in your comment section and argue with you until you’re too exhausted to think straight. They spend MILLIONS of dollars building a public image that has roughly the same relationship to the actual person as the photo on the Taco Bell menu has to the thing they hand you at the drive-through window.

If you’ve ever seen a politician eating a corn dog at a state fair, that corn dog was tested with a focus group. If you’ve ever seen a campaign ad where a billionaire is wearing blue jeans and leaning on a fence, a consultant was paid $40,000 to pick those jeans. None of it is real. It is a product. It is designed, tested, refined, and sold to you the same way they sell you laundry detergent, except laundry detergent doesn’t have access to nuclear weapons.

The public face is a production. The private face is usually something considerably less inspiring.

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The Mask Always Slips

Bill Cosby was America’s Dad. He wore sweaters. He ate Jell-O pudding on television. He did a bit about going to the dentist that was so funny your actual father would laugh until beer came out of his nose. He was a MORAL AUTHORITY. He lectured young people about personal responsibility. He was wholesome. He was safe. He was the guy you trusted.

He was drugging women and raping them for decades.

Speaking of convincing performances.

O.J. Simpson. Heisman Trophy winner. NFL legend. Hertz rental car spokesman (he sprinted through airports in the commercials, which in retrospect was excellent preparation for what came later). He was Nordberg in the Naked Gun movies. He was charming and funny and beloved. Then his ex-wife Nicole and her friend Ron Goldman turned up murdered and America’s favorite running back was leading police on the most famous low-speed chase in the history of American television in a white Ford Bronco.

A jury found him not guilty. I am CERTAIN this had nothing to do with the fact that O.J.’s legal team cost more than the jurors’ houses. OBVIOUSLY nobody was influenced by anything other than the pure unvarnished evidence. Then, a few years later, this same innocent man turned up broke and robbing a guy in a Las Vegas hotel room over sports memorabilia, because that is what innocent people do.

Speaking of men whose public image was constructed in a different dimension from their private life.

Bob Crane. Star of Hogan’s Heroes. Colonel Hogan. Beloved sitcom dad. Wholesome all-American entertainer. Six seasons on CBS. Behind the curtain, he was secretly filming his sexual encounters with women, many of whom HAD NO IDEA THEY WERE BEING RECORDED. We found this out because he was bludgeoned to death in his apartment in Scottsdale, Arizona, in 1978. That murder is STILL unsolved forty-eight years later. America’s favorite POW camp comedian was beaten to death surrounded by his own sex tapes and nobody has ever spent a single day in prison for it.

Or, for those of you who think this is ancient history, Jared Fogle. The Subway guy. He lost 245 pounds eating sandwiches and became the most trusted pitchman in America. He was in EVERY commercial. Parents liked him. Kids recognized his face. He was the wholesome face of healthy eating for an entire generation of Americans.

He went to federal prison for child pornography and paying for sex with minors.

The man who sold you a $5 footlong was a predator, and Subway had him on television selling sandwiches to families for over a decade.

(I am honestly shocked this guy’s name didn’t turn up in the Epstein files. Maybe he wasn’t rich enough to get invited.)

I want you to notice something. These were not fringe weirdos. These were people you LOVED. People your parents loved. People the ENTIRE COUNTRY loved. In each case the mask was professionally built, nationally distributed, and maintained for years (sometimes decades) before reality kicked the door in. The public image was a product. You bought it. So did everybody else.

Here is my question and I want you to sit with it for a second before you answer.

What makes you so sure you’re not buying one right now?

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Speaking of Masks…

Donald Trump is a smart man.

I am saying this first because what comes next is going to make a certain type of person very angry, and that certain type of person is going to stop reading and start typing the moment their feelings get hurt, and I want the credit on the record before they rage-quit into my comment section with one of the four pre-loaded scripts I already called out at the top of this article (which they will not have read).

Trump is smart. He is a gifted speaker. He reads a room better than almost anyone in modern American politics. He made the calculated and correct decision that his personality and brand had a better shot at winning the presidency as a Republican than as a Democrat, and he was right.

The man is a GREAT television personality. People like him. People like him the way they like a charismatic bookie who always knows the spread, or the neighborhood organized crime boss who shouldn’t be trusted but buys the kids ice cream every summer (if you’re Italian and grew up in a major metropolitan area on the eastern seaboard you know EXACTLY what I’m talking about), or a used car salesman who is somehow so entertaining that you almost don’t mind driving off the lot in a car that’s leaking transmission fluid. He is likeable. I am not denying this.

He is also a spray-tanned 78-year-old in a bad toupee whose wife got into this country on an EB-1A “Einstein visa,” a category normally reserved for people who do MAJOR things like cure cancer or invent time travel. She qualified by posing nude on the cover of British GQ. Only FIVE people from Slovenia got that visa the year she received hers. He is not the outsider he plays on television.

Donald Trump was a real estate developer for DECADES. Hotels. Casinos. Golf courses. Buildings with his name in gold letters. Then he entered politics. And very quickly his entire family ended up holding millions of dollars in stocks in weapons and defense companies.

A man who spent forty years building hotels suddenly became VERY interested in things that blow hotels up. He is now escalating conflicts around the globe and positioning the United States on the edge of a war that he and his family are financially positioned to profit from.

If you think that’s a coincidence, you need to learn how finance works. And I mean that literally. Look at the word.

Finance.

“Fin” comes from Latin finis. It means “end.” That is not my interpretation. That is the dictionary. The word entered English around 1400 from Old French and its original meaning was “an end.” Settlement. Retribution. The ending of something. Now look at the suffix. “Ance.” Say it out loud. Now say “ankh.” The Egyptian word for life. You can’t tell me those aren’t related. I am not an etymologist. But I am a guy who spent a decade in the tech finance industry and when you look at that word from a different angle, the business of making money suddenly reads like a warning label.

Fin. Ankh. End. Life. END LIFE.

Now consider that Mammon is the Hebrew word for money. According to rabbinical studies, Mammon is also the son of Satan. Jesus said you cannot serve both God and Mammon. He wasn’t being poetic. He was being LITERAL. And if you’ve ever looked at the back of a dollar bill and noticed the giant all-seeing eye floating above an unfinished pyramid and thought “that seems normal,” I would encourage you to look again. Our financial system is named after ending life, denominated in currency stamped with occult imagery, and presided over by a spiritual entity that rabbinical scholars identified as the direct offspring of the devil.

And the men who sit at the top of this system are doing exactly what it was designed to do. They are building bunkers that cost more than your entire town’s real estate value. They are buying weapons stocks while they position the rest of us for a war that would end millions of lives. If you’re wondering what Satan’s endgame looks like, it looks like this. What better way to say FUCK YOU to God than to destroy every living thing He spent all that time making?

And if you’re sitting there right now thinking “well thank God MY party is going to fix this,” I have some bad news.

The Grenade in the Elevator

Somebody in my comment section last week asked why the Democrats didn’t use the Epstein files to destroy Trump. That person was SO close to figuring it out I could almost hear the answer knocking on the inside of their skull.

They didn’t use the files because THEY’RE IN THE FILES TOO.

Billionaires protect billionaires. Power protects power. An eagle needs two wings to fly and both wings are attached to the same bird. That bird does not work for you. Democrats and Republicans are not on opposite teams. They are two shifts working the same job, which is making sure nobody looks too closely at what the people who fund BOTH of them are doing. The Russia investigations, the impeachments, the endless media circus, ALL of it was theater designed to keep you arguing at Easter dinner while the real dirt stayed buried, because the real dirt buries everyone.

The Epstein files are the one grenade in Washington that nobody will ever pull the pin on. Not because it’s a dud. Because every single person in that elevator knows it’s real, and if it goes off, it takes ALL of them with it.

So when you try to explain any of this to people, when you show them the money trail and the weapons stocks and the bunkers and the files, you know what they do? They run the script.

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The Script

RINO. TDS. Libtard. “You just don’t get it.”

I started this article by telling you that I predicted exactly what the commenters on my last piece would say, and they said it. Those are not thoughts. Somebody else came up with those. Somebody with a budget and a strategy and a very clear understanding of how to make millions of people say the same words at the same time without any of those people ever stopping to wonder why they’re all reciting the same script like it’s the pledge of allegiance at a school they didn’t choose to attend.

I used to be a tech stock analyst. I sat in a room and told very wealthy people what products were going to change the market before they hit the shelves. I predicted the iPhone a full year before it was released and my boss made tens of millions off the Apple stock explosion. I sat in rooms where the decisions that shape your reality were made by people you have never heard of, and I watched them build public personas the same way a prop department builds a movie set. It looks real from the audience. From backstage it’s plywood and paint. I said something about it and it cost me everything, which you can read about elsewhere because this article is already long enough and my dental bills aren’t getting any smaller.

The point is this. When you call me a RINO for questioning a real estate developer who suddenly owns weapons stocks and is starting wars, you are not defending a president. You are running a script that was written for you by people who spent a LOT of money making sure you’d run it, and you are doing it for free, which makes you the only person in this transaction who isn’t getting paid.

The Sweater Was Always a Lie

Bill Cosby wore the sweater. O.J. wore the smile. Bob Crane wore the uniform. Jared held up the sandwich. And a real estate developer from Queens put on a red hat and told you he was going to drain the swamp, and the swamp is deeper than it has ever been, and his family’s weapons portfolio is doing GREAT.

The mask always slips. It slipped on Cosby. It slipped on O.J. It slipped on Crane. It slipped on Jared. It will slip again. It always does. The only question is whether you’ll recognize it when it happens or whether you’ll be too busy typing “TDS” in a comment section to notice.

I have been investigating the people who run both parties for over a decade. It cost me my career, my credit, my health, and most of the things normal people take for granted. I warned you. You called me a RINO. You called me a libtard. You recited the script they wrote for you and you didn’t even charge them for the performance.

I’ll keep writing anyway. That is what wolves do. We howl even when nobody’s listening, because the truth doesn’t care if you’re paying attention. It just sits there, waiting for you to stop yelling long enough to hear it.

Help keep the Wise Wolf howling.

The Part Where Lily Makes Me Beg for Money:

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My sister is a doctor. She lives in a house on a hill with land in every direction, which she earned, and I am proud of her. I live in a room that costs $45 a night off a highway where the vending machine has been sold out of everything except some generic Latin American soda called “Tropical Fantasia” since what I’m guessing was the Obama administration. The remote control is chained to the nightstand (I have questions about this that I do not want answered). The shower has one temperature setting and that setting is “third degree burns.” And there is a water stain on the ceiling that looks so much like the face of Jesus I have been lying here for forty-five minutes wondering if God is watching over me, because this thing literally looks like the Lord decided to incarnate as water damage above a smelly mattress in a cheap motel in some no-name town off the highway that I chose over the KOA campground up the road for the same price.

When people hear that a grown man lives in a motel off a highway, they assume something went wrong with him. Bad investments. Gambling. Drugs. Some spectacular failure of ambition that ended with a suitcase and a long drive to nowhere.

In my case the truth is almost exactly the opposite. I work constantly. Lily, my co-writer (less than a year from finishing her journalism degree), works constantly. We earn a ‘living’.

It is not what it should be for the hours and the risk.

Lily rides the bus because she can’t afford a car. My wisdom teeth need about $10,000 worth of surgery I can’t afford. And I am in this motel because my credit was obliterated by a series of lawsuits filed against me for publishing true things about powerful people.

I have recently tried to rent several apartments.

It goes the way you’d expect it to go when the credit check comes back looking like a federal indictment and the prospective tenant has to answer the question “So what do you do for a living?” with something that sounds like he made it up in a psych ward.

Nobody wants to be the guy who rented a unit to the person who brought a Fortune 500 company’s legal team to the building. That conversation does not end with you getting the apartment.

But how did I get here?

I used to be a tech stock analyst. I managed investments for people who had so much money they needed a guy like me to help them hide it in places with names like “Cayman Islands Holding Trust IV” (not the real name, but honestly not far off). I even went to a few of the ‘fancy’ rich people dinners. Four forks per setting. Wine that cost more per bottle than this motel room costs per week. I sat across from people who owned things you didn’t know could be privately owned, including, (in one case I am not going to elaborate on), several local Judges and half the detectives on the vice squad. I had a six-figure salary and a bikini model girlfriend and a very clear path to the house on the hill.

Then I saw some things I was not supposed to see, and instead of keeping my mouth shut, which is what everyone does, which is the entire basis of the system, I wrote it all down and published it on the internet and ruined my life.

That was about fifteen yers ago. Let me tell you what that decision costs.

Freelancers especially, because we do not have a network or a corporation or a legal department behind us. We have a laptop and a source and whatever survival instincts the Lord saw fit to provide. We disappear and nobody notices because we didn’t have 2 million subscribers and a government amplification machine making sure anyone cared.

Remember that number. Two million subscribers…

Big Money Does Not Send a Search Party for Freelance Journalists

Shelly Kittleson is a freelance investigative journalist who spent over a decade reporting from the Middle East. She was just on the news. Grabbed off a sidewalk in Baghdad. Broad daylight. Shoved into a car.

That was not a movie. That was her life.

Shelly and I do a similar job. That is her story. Here is mine.

A lot of you go to work every day. You clock in. You clock out. You have a weekly paycheck and health insurance and a 401(k). If something goes wrong there is a number you can call.

I do not have ANY of those things.

When someone puts a brick through your window at four in the morning with a note that just says ‘DIE!’ on it, which has happened, you can call the cops…

BUT they don’t lift a finger because they’re on the same payroll as the guy who sent the brick.

There is nothing you can do when strangers walk up to you on the street and tell you that you have a big mouth and somebody ought to shut it. I have been beaten. My home has been broken into three separate times. They stole my work. They stole photos.

They left subtle ‘calling cards’ just to make sure I knew they could walk in anytime they wanted and end my life.

I have been jailed on charges I maintain were fabricated. I have been shot at twice. I have been stabbed multiple times.

That happened more than once before I figured out the pattern, which I recognize does not speak well of me, but in my defense they were very attractive and I was very lonely.

And then there was the hostel…

I was in San Francisco, staying at a place I am certain was operated by the Russian mob or Putin’s intelligence apparatus (Is there even a difference?), a detail they do not include in the listing. At a certain point during the night I became aware that the people in that building had no intention of letting me check out in the morning.

I jumped out of a second-story window. I almost broke my arm on the way down. I didn’t, (which I consider a top five lifetime accomplishment), and if that tells you something about how the last fifteen years have gone - GREAT, because it should!

I landed, and I ran, and I found a patch of overgrown bushes, and I lay in those bushes all night in the dark without moving or sleeping, waiting for the sun to come up and fearing for my life the entire time. When morning finally hit I ran for the Amtrak station. I sat on a bench waiting for my train the hell out of that nightmare city, and a man with a thick Russian accent sat down next to me and asked me how I slept the night before.

I did not sleep the night before. I was in a bush.

I’m sure he knew that already. He was sent there to make sure I understood they could end my life anytime they wanted. The only reason I am still here is either dumb luck or direct intervention from God, and given some of the things that have happened to me over the last six years (things I am not comfortable writing about on this newsletter just yet), I am leaning heavily toward the second option.

I will probably die doing this sort of work.

That is not dramatic. That is what the numbers say about people in my position. Freelance investigative journalists get murdered by the mob. We get disappeared by governments. We get thrown in jail by crooked cops and charged with crimes we didn’t commit. We get shot in parking lots and nobody solves it.

Sometimes I lie in bed at night and think my life sounds like a bad movie. Which is funny, because I have a theory about that.

Why the Movies Are Bad and What That Has to Do With Professor Jiang

Have you noticed that movies have been unwatchable for about ten years? Sequel after sequel. Reboot after reboot. Franchises that feel like they were assembled in a spreadsheet and accidentally released to theaters.

The writers who used to make you feel something seem to have vanished.

My theory is: they didn’t vanish. They got bigger clients.

The craft of narrative storytelling did not disappear from American life. Building tension. Controlling what the audience knows and when they know it.

Making millions of people believe something that isn’t true…

That skill set used to produce films. Now it produces geopolitical events. That skill set migrated from studios to intelligence agencies and the billionaires who fund them, because those clients pay better and their productions don’t need to worry about opening weekend. They air on CNN and Fox News and the audience doesn’t buy tickets. The audience just shows up. They call it “the news.” They sit there convinced they’re watching reality.

Speaking of performances. Professor Jiang.

Professor Jiang is a Chinese academic who appeared on YouTube less than a year ago. He now has over 2 million subscribers. He predicted Trump would win the election. He predicted the escalation with Iran. He predicted specific geopolitical outcomes before they happened, with the kind of accuracy that would get you burned as a witch in an earlier century and gets you called China’s Nostradamus in this one.

He is not a prophet. He has read the script.

He knows what happens next because the people who wrote it told him. He sits in front of a camera and performs astonishment for 2 million people who think they’re watching a genius when they’re watching a man with a cheat sheet.

Professor Jiang is an INTELLIGENCE ASSET. That is why he has 2 million subscribers in less than a year. Intelligence agencies do not grow audiences. They MANUFACTURE them. They can put 2 million subscribers on a channel the way a studio can buy a billboard in Times Square. It is a production. He is the lead actor. And the point of the production is not to inform you. It is to manage you. To let you believe you are smart for watching, so you keep watching, so that when the next scene starts you are already seated.

I am NOT an intelligence asset. I am a guy who walked away from a mountain of corporate money to tell the truth from a motel room with a water stain shaped like Jesus and a vending machine full of whatever the heck ‘Tropical Fantasia’ is.

That is the difference.

Between me and Professor Jiang. Between me and every CNN host and Fox News anchor and podcaster and YouTuber you’ve ever watched who always seems to know what’s going to happen next. They are paid assets reading from scripts, and they are rewarded for it, and they go home to comfortable lives in comfortable homes. I have been howling for over a decade and all it got me was PTSD, a few stab wounds, and a Substack of moderate success.

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The Part Where I Ask You for Money (But At Least I’m Honest About It)

Lily and I are Christian journalists. Not Republican. Not Democrat. Satan is in both party headquarters and if you think the devil only works one side of the aisle you are out of your mind.

You don’t have to be a Christian to read or support our work.

We’ve been documenting the technocratic AI-powered takeover of human freedom longer and more accurately than almost anyone. Check our work.

Lily graduates next year. She wants to stay on full time and I am terrified for her, because the work is dangerous and I will not let what happened to me happen to her. I want to expand. Hire new writers. Get an office. Buy a newsvan for on-location reporting. Hire a bodyguard, because if I am going back into the field: I am NOT getting stabbed again.

The truth deserves better than a $45 motel and a bus pass.

A lot of you have been messaging asking for a way to support us outside the Substack ecosystem. You don’t trust the platform. We heard you.

SubscribeStar: https://www.subscribestar.com/the-wise-wolf

If Substack works for you, we’re running 50% off a full year.

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You are the only people willing to help. No government. No billionaire. No intelligence agency handing us scripts and subscribers. Just you.

That water stain is still up there on the ceiling looking down at me. I’m taking that as a sign. When the Lord shows up as water damage above a guy who gave up everything to tell the truth, you either laugh or you pray. I did both. Then I drank a Tropical Fantasia (it was the only option) and got back to work.

Help keep the Wise Wolf howling.

Note from Lily the Editor: Please share this article. (That’s all I had to say. Sorry, I have a really bad migraine right now.)

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The Wise Wolf

A wise man once said, 'Don't argue with a stupid person because they will just drag you down to their level and beat you with experience.'

By 🐺The Wise Wolf

In 2015, during a live Flag Day celebration on Fox News, weekend host Pete Hegseth threw an axe and hit a member of the West Point drumline named Jeff Prosperie, who sued for “severe and serious personal injuries” and “permanent effects of pain, disability, disfigurement and loss of body function,” which, to be fair, is exactly what you would expect to experience after being hit with an axe. The lawsuit was quietly settled in 2019, and Hegseth went on to bigger things, by which I mean he is now the United States Secretary of War (formerly Defense, but we apparently renamed it because “Defense” didn’t sound aggressive enough, kind of like how a restaurant renames its “value menu” to “the feast collection” except with nuclear weapons), where he is in charge of the most powerful military force in human history despite a personal military career that peaked at the rank of Major in the Army National Guard, leading a platoon of roughly 30 soldiers, which is fewer people than most Applebee’s employs on a Friday night.

I mention the axe incident because Pete Hegseth is back to swinging at people, except now they’re four-star generals, he’s doing it during a war with Iran, and the Pentagon’s official explanation is (and I want you to appreciate this) nothing. They said nothing. They just wished everyone well in their retirement, the way you might wish someone well after running over their mailbox with your car and then driving away.

WHAT HAPPENED

On Thursday, Hegseth fired Army Chief of Staff Gen. Randy George along with two other generals. George is a West Point graduate, class of 1988, who served in Desert Storm, Iraq, and Afghanistan, commanded the 4th Infantry Division, and was confirmed for the job by the Senate in a vote of 96 to 1, which, given that this is a legislative body whose members cannot agree on whether lunch should happen at lunchtime, is basically the governmental equivalent of a standing ovation. He had a year and a half left on his term. Republican Rep. Rich McCormick, who sits on the House Armed Services Committee, went on camera and said, “General George is a brilliant mind. I’ve never heard him say anything contrary to what the president is trying to achieve,” and called the firing “concerning,” which in Congressional English translates roughly to “WHAT THE ACTUAL (expletive deleted).”

This is not an isolated incident. Hegseth has now removed more than a dozen of the most senior military officers in America, including the Joint Chiefs Chairman, the Chief of Naval Operations, the head of the Defense Intelligence Agency, and the head of the NSA, among others. He has remade nearly the entire Joint Chiefs of Staff. Two original members remain. George’s replacement is Gen. Christopher LaNeve, a former Hegseth aide who got on Trump’s radar by calling into the inauguration ball from South Korea and delivering a compliment so enthusiastic that the president remembered his name months later, which in this administration qualifies you to run the Army in the same way that remembering a waiter’s birthday qualifies you to manage a Michelin-starred restaurant. The Pentagon described LaNeve as someone who will carry out the administration’s vision “without fault.” Those are the actual words. WITHOUT FAULT. In a military context.

WHY (THE VERSION THEY’LL ADMIT TO)

The official explanation, per NBC News and nine U.S. officials who were willing to talk about it as long as nobody used their names (naturally), is that Hegseth has been blocking promotions for Black and female officers across all branches, and George refused to pull names off a promotion list when ordered to. The DIA head was fired because his agency produced an assessment of U.S. strikes on Iran that had the misfortune of being accurate instead of flattering, which in previous administrations would be considered “doing your job” but in this one is apparently a termination offense.

WHY (THE VERSION THEY WON’T)

These generals were not fired for being “woke.” They were fired because they were loyal to the republic instead of the regime, and that distinction is about to matter more than anything has mattered in 250 years.

If you are attempting to take over a country by exploiting the mechanisms of its own democracy (which is a move that has about as much honor as a pickpocket at a funeral, but which works disturbingly well because the system was designed to assume good faith from its participants and therefore has the structural integrity of a screen door when someone shows up without any), you do not announce your intentions. You start by removing the people who could stop you. You gut the military officers who command the troops that might push back. You do it during a war, because wartime is the one moment when firing a general feels patriotic instead of criminal.

This has happened before. In 1934, Hitler purged the SA leadership in the Night of the Long Knives. By 1938 he had systematically removed every professional officer who might have said “sir, this invasion of Poland seems ill-advised” and replaced them all with men whose continued employment depended entirely on agreeing with whatever came out of the boss’s mouth, which is a management style familiar to anyone who has worked at a startup run by a CEO who describes himself as a “visionary.” The officers who might have stopped the madness were gone. The ones who replaced them had learned the only lesson that mattered.

I am not calling anyone Hitler. I am pointing out that the sequence is identical, and that ignoring an identical sequence because you don’t like the comparison is how you end up on the wrong end of history, which is the end where your grandchildren ask you what you were doing while it happened and you have to admit you were typing “TDS” and screaming “RINO” at fellow Republicans whose only crime was not wanting billionaire sex perverts to enslave America.

And the man they’re cheering for is not the one running this. Donald Trump is not Caesar. (Caesar personally led his own armies across Gaul. Trump is a real estate developer whose father handed him an empire at eighteen and whose primary talent is being famous for being famous, a skill he shares with roughly half the cast of any show currently airing on Bravo.) Trump is the puppet. The audience watches the puppet. The hand belongs to Elon Musk, Peter Thiel, and Silicon Valley’s billionaire class, and what they’re building has had a name since 1933.

WHAT THEY’RE BUILDING

If you haven’t read my previous article (”The Technate of America: The 1940 Nazi Blueprint Behind Trump’s Iran War That Makes My Brain Want to Explode”), go do that. Short version: in 1933 a fascist-adjacent organization called Technocracy Inc. published a map of the “Technate of America” stretching from Greenland through Venezuela, calling for the complete conscription of men, machines, and wealth, to be managed by a technical elite who would replace democratic government. Members wore matching grey suits, drove grey cars, and saluted each other, because apparently even rational scientific utopias need a dress code and a secret handshake. The Canadian chapter head was Joshua Haldeman, a Nazi sympathizer whose grandson is Elon Musk.

Musk spent the first five months of this administration gutting the civilian government through DOGE. Hegseth has spent the last year gutting the military. Both halves of the machine that could resist a technocratic takeover have been hollowed out and restaffed with people who will carry out the vision WITHOUT FAULT, which is a phrase that should be embroidered on a pillow and placed on the grave of American democracy if we don’t start paying attention.

THEY ARE BUILDING ROBOT ARMIES

Right now, today, there are still people inside the federal government and the military who are loyal to the American people and not to the regime, not to Silicon Valley, not to Technocracy Inc. (which, the more I research it, looks less like an independent movement and more like another tentacle of the same Masonic network that has been running these schemes since before anyone reading this was born, but that’s a whole other article and my blood pressure can only handle so many revelations per week). These are people who took an oath to the Constitution, not to a billionaire with a rocket ship, and they are the only human beings standing between you and a future where policy disagreements are settled by machines that don’t care what you think because they weren’t programmed to. Musk gutted thousands of them from the civilian side through DOGE. Hegseth is gutting them from the military side one star at a time. Every general who gets forced into early retirement is one fewer person who could have looked at an illegal order and said “no,” which is a word that has stopped more atrocities than every weapon system ever built, and which becomes completely meaningless the moment the thing receiving the order doesn’t have a mouth to say it with.

We still have no idea where the bulk of the wealth they looted from an entire continent ended up. We still have no verified accounting of where the senior Nazi leadership actually went, beyond the handful who were famous enough to get caught or vain enough to shoot themselves. Operation Paperclip brought over 1,600 Nazi scientists to work for the U.S. government, which we acknowledge openly and apparently consider fine. The ideological infrastructure didn’t disappear just because Berlin fell. It relocated, rebranded, and waited, which is exactly what well-funded extremist movements do, because extremism is patient in a way that democracy almost never is.

And now the ideological grandchildren of those movements are building autonomous weapons systems that run on local onboard AI, don’t need a satellite link that some 14-year-old Russian kid with a $200 laptop can hack, and will follow orders with the kind of perfect obedience that every tyrant in history dreamed about but could never achieve because human soldiers have this inconvenient tendency to develop moral objections at the worst possible time. Every dictator who ever lived was limited by the same problem: eventually you need a person to pull the trigger, and sometimes that person won’t. AI fixes that. Permanently. And the people building these systems are the same people whose intellectual forefathers wore matching grey suits and published documents arguing that democracy was too inefficient to survive and that the continent should be managed by a technical elite, which is a fancy way of saying “us.” Once these systems are operational, it doesn’t matter how many Americans wake up, because waking up doesn’t help when the thing standing in your doorway doesn’t sleep.

THE MAN WITH THE AXE

So here’s where we are. A Fox News weekend host who once threw an axe on live television and hit a drummer (his name was Jeff Prosperie, he sued for permanent disfigurement, and he deserved better than to become a footnote in someone else’s political career) is now the Secretary of War, confirmed by a single tie-breaking vote, with a military career that topped out at leading 30 guys in the National Guard, and he has personally fired or forced into retirement more than a dozen of the most senior, most experienced, most decorated military officers the United States has ever produced, during an active war with Iran, without providing a single public explanation for any of it, and replaced them all with loyalists whose defining credential is that they will execute the administration’s vision WITHOUT FAULT, while the grandson of the Nazi sympathizer who drew the original version of the map now hanging on the Pentagon’s wall has dinner with the president at Mar-a-Lago and writes checks for the midterms.

The people who could have stopped this are being marched out of the Pentagon one by one. The people who are building the machines that will make stopping it permanently impossible are the same people funding the administration doing the marching. And the American public, the people whose republic is being disassembled and sold for parts in front of their faces, are either cheering because they think the guy on the stage is their guy (he’s not, he’s a puppet, the hand belongs to someone else, and puppets don’t save people, they entertain them while the real show happens backstage), or they’re too busy screaming “TDS” at anyone who tries to warn them to notice that the building is on fire and the fire department just got laid off.

He missed the drummer. He is not missing the generals. And once the robots are ready, he won’t need generals at all.

Share this article. Share the companion piece. Send them to the person you are most afraid to send them to, because that is the person who needs them most, and because being uncomfortable for five minutes is better than being a serf for a thousand years. We are running out of time to care about being polite.

Help keep the Wise Wolf howling.

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Companion piece: “The Technate of America: The 1940 Nazi Blueprint Behind Trump’s Iran War That Makes My Brain Want to Explode” covers the Technate blueprint, the Musk/Haldeman connection, and the four billion dollars. Read them together. Then do something.

The Wise Wolf

A wise man once said, 'Don't argue with a stupid person because they will just drag you down to their level and beat you with experience.'

By 🐺The Wise Wolf

I was recently watching a YouTube lecture by a man who teaches high school in Beijing, which is in China, which is a country where YouTube IS BANNED, a detail that apparently concerns no one except me and possibly the Chinese government, which I suspect is fine with it because they appear to be the ones paying for his two million subscribers, which is more than most actual American news organizations have, which tells you everything you need to know about where we are as a civilization.

When Mehdi Hasan asked him on camera whether he might be a CCP propaganda asset, Jiang said, and I want you to appreciate the honesty of this, “It is possible I’m a useful idiot.” Give the man a trophy for being the only public figure in history to answer a question that honestly.

Anyway, Jiang’s argument goes like this. The war in Iran looks stupid. The Strait of Hormuz is choked shut, which means 20% of the world’s oil, half its fertilizer exports, and a third of its helium supply (which you need for semiconductors, which you need for literally everything manufactured after 1985, including the phone you’re reading this on, so maybe pay attention) are stuck behind a 21-mile-wide chokepoint that Iran controls. Japan gets 75% of its oil through there. China imports 75%. Australia’s prime minister went on national television to beg people to take the bus, which in Australia means riding two hours through the outback with a kangaroo who didn’t pay for a ticket. So Trump is an idiot, everyone agrees, let’s all go home.

Except Jiang asks the question nobody on cable news has the attention span to ask: if the Middle East oil is gone, where does the replacement come from?

Canada. Venezuela. The United States.

And who just took Venezuela. And who is threatening Canada. And who tried to buy Greenland. And who had his Secretary of War unveil something called “Greater North America” that claims every nation north of the equator as an American security perimeter.

Jiang calls this “the Technate” and says it like he invented the concept over lunch. He didn’t. It has a name. It has a history. It has a map. And here is where things go from “interesting YouTube lecture” to “I need to sit down and possibly throw up.”

A NAZI’S GRANDSON, A 1940 MAP, AND THE SECRETARY OF WAR WHO JUST HELD IT UP ON LIVE TELEVISION

In 1933 an engineer named Howard Scott founded Technocracy Inc. Their proposal: democracy is inefficient, so let’s replace politicians with engineers who will manage the continent’s energy as a single unit. To signal their commitment to rational governance, members wore matching grey suits, drove grey cars, and saluted each other in public. A bunch of guys in identical outfits doing a special salute and their pitch is “trust us, we’re the rational ones.” This is a man holding a knife in one hand and a severed cat head in the other assuring you he’s an animal lover.

It stretched from Greenland south through Central America, the Caribbean, and into Colombia, Venezuela, and the Guyanas. Defense bases along the perimeter. The document called for “complete conscription of men, materials, machines, and wealth” and stated these territories should be acquired “by purchase, negotiation, or the force of arms.” Subtle as a brick through a stained glass window, these guys.

Now here’s where you’re going to think I’m making this up, and I need you to know that I am not. On March 5, 2026, Secretary of War Pete Hegseth said this at U.S. Southern Command:

“Trump has drawn a new strategic map from Greenland to the Gulf of America to the Panama Canal and its surrounding countries. At the Department of War, we call this strategic map the Greater North America. Every sovereign nation and territory north of the equator, from Greenland to Ecuador and from Alaska to Guyana, is our immediate security perimeter.”

The head of Technocracy Inc.’s Canadian branch was Joshua Haldeman, who was affiliated with pro-Nazi sympathy movements (documented, not speculation), and who later, (after raping a teenage girl), packed up his family and moved them to apartheid South Africa, presumably because 1940s Canada was too tolerant for his tastes, which is the kind of sentence that really makes you stop and think about a man. His grandson is Elon Musk, who ran Trump’s Department of Government Efficiency, then quit, then called Trump’s spending bill a “disgusting abomination,” then accused him of hiding the Epstein files, then floated starting his own political party, then deleted half his tweets, then apologized over the phone, then showed up at Mar-a-Lago for a lovely dinner with POTUS and FLOTUS and posted about it like a teenager who just got back together with his ex. His people are still embedded across federal agencies. His companies still hold billions in government contracts. And the Secretary of War is holding grandpa’s map at a podium and acting like he drew it himself over breakfast. If you’re getting whiplash trying to follow this, congratulations, that’s the point. The Romans called it bread and circuses. Keep the public entertained and they’ll never notice who’s raiding the treasury. Two thousand years later the bread is cheaper, the circuses are on Twitter, and the treasury is missing trillions of dollars…

The last time an aristocracy this entrenched ruled Europe it took the Black Death and a thousand years to crack it. If this locks in (and it will, if everyone keeps typing “TDS” instead of reading a 90-year-old magazine) your grandchildren will be born into it and die in it. If you don’t have a billion dollars, you are going to be one of the servants. That is not me being dramatic. That is the plan. It is on the Pentagon’s wall.

TRUMP’S FAVORITE BIBLE VERSE IS THE ONE JESUS TOLD YOU TO STOP FOLLOWING

So why isn’t anyone stopping this? Because 70 million Americans think the front man was sent by Jesus.

I voted for Donald Trump twice. He was solid the first time. Probably would’ve been fine the second time. But this isn’t the same man. This is an old man nearing the end who can see what Musk and Thiel are building and is making sure the Trump family has a seat at the new table. The Christianity is the costume. It keeps 70 million people from asking questions. It’s a good costume. But it doesn’t fit, and if you look closely you can see the price tag hanging off the back.

At Liberty University he said “Two Corinthians” (it is Second Corinthians, every churchgoer on earth knows this) and asked the audience “Is that the one you like?” like a DJ working a wedding he didn’t want to be at. When Bloomberg asked for a favorite verse he said it was “too personal” (interesting that a man who told America about Stormy Daniels finds Scripture too intimate for discussion). When finally pinned down he chose “an eye for an eye,” which of all the verses in all the Bible is the specific one Jesus repudiated in the Sermon on the Mount. His own church says he’s not an active member. I am not making this up.

Hegseth told Latin American defense ministers their nations must remain “Christian nations under God.” A cross bolted onto the Technate to keep evangelicals clapping, which is a strategy that has a 100% success rate and a 100% body count. This worked on the German Christians in the 1930s, who put Hitler in power because sincere believers couldn’t fathom someone lying about God, and within ten years their children were dead across Europe. Same mechanism. Different century.

Same results. Every single time.

HIGH TREASON FOR FUN AND PROFIT

Every politician in Washington was given a choice. Side with the technocrats and become part of the new aristocracy: live longer, get richer, send your kids to schools that cost more than most people’s houses, and maybe someday ride a shuttle to Elon’s Mars colony where the billionaires plan to live like gods while the rest of humanity fights over water rights. (Gee, “become as gods,” where have I heard that before? Genesis 3:5, the serpent’s pitch in the Garden, but I’m sure that’s another coincidence in an article that is absolutely drowning in them.) Or side with the common folk, the regular people who work hard and save and live honest lives, and end up a servant right alongside them when the new dark ages roll in. That is what Technocracy Inc. is, people. It is Game of Thrones with laser pistols and AI robot horses. It is a return to aristocracy, to lords and peasants, except the lords have technology that makes a medieval king look like a guy with a pointy stick. Washington did the math and chose the robot cult. Nobody will admit it. But the money tells the story their mouths won’t.

You don’t just happen to invest in a drone parts company weeks before the president you work for starts a drone war. That is not coincidence. That is war profiteering, which is what the Romans called high treason, which they punished by throwing you off a cliff.

Bloomberg reported that on March 23, at 6:49 a.m. Eastern, someone moved 6 million barrels of oil futures in two minutes. Normal volume: about 700,000 barrels. Sixteen minutes later Trump posted he was postponing strikes on Iran and the price of oil dropped like a piano out a window. Krugman on NPR: “It really strains credulity to suggest that this wasn’t somebody with inside information.”

The Trump family has added four billion dollars to their fortune since January 2025 (per the New Yorker). Four billion, with a B, in one year, while the rest of us watch gas prices train for the Olympics. Don Jr. invests in Polymarket and advises Kalshi, prediction markets where anonymous accounts bet millions on war outcomes his father controls. He and Eric are invested in Unusual Machines, a drone parts company that received a $620 million Pentagon loan (THE LARGEST IN THE HISTORY OF THE OFFICE OF STRATEGIC CAPITAL) while their father runs a drone war with money borrowed from the taxpayers paying $4.50 a gallon. The Justice Department’s Public Integrity Section, created after Watergate to prosecute exactly this, has been gutted from 36 lawyers to two, which is a lot like firing the lifeguards right before you push someone in the pool.

Martha Stewart did five months for lying about a $45,000 trade. These people have made four billion while soldiers fight their war and families choose between groceries and gas. They saw the fire coming and instead of building a fire department, they bought the building across the street to watch you burn from. And I already know what half of you are about to do instead of sitting with that. You’re going to scroll to the comments and type three letters that the CIA would be proud of, because that’s what you’ve been trained to do whenever someone threatens the lie. So let me beat you to it.

PREDICTIVE ANALYSIS (MY TURN)

Jiang Xueqin calls what he does “predictive history.” Watches what happened before, tells you what happens next. I can do that too, except my predictions are about something far more predictable than geopolitics, which is the comments section of a Substack article that says something unflattering about Donald Trump.

Here’s what you were going to type. I know because you’ve typed it before, in the exact same order, with the exact same caps lock, because the people who programmed these responses into you didn’t bother writing a second draft.

“TDS!” Three letters that share the exact DNA of every CIA-manufactured shutdown phrase in history, and I’m sure that’s a coincidence. A peer-reviewed study (journal Societies, University of Montana) found Trump supporters shifted positions to match whatever he said regardless of content. Critics showed no reverse. Their conclusion, in academic language that translates to “holy crap”: significant cult-like loyalty among supporters, zero evidence of TDS among critics. The next time you type those letters, understand that a university studied whether you’re in a cult and the answer came back “probably.”

“4D chess, trust the plan!” You know what, you’re right. There IS a plan. THE PLAN IS ON THE PENTAGON’S WALL AND IT WAS DRAWN IN 1940 BY GUYS IN MATCHING GREY SUITS WHO SALUTED EACH OTHER IN PARKING LOTS. Congratulations on being the first MAGA supporter to accidentally tell the truth about this. You’re just not going to like whose plan it is.

“God works through imperfect vessels!” He sure does. Scripture’s go-to imperfect vessel is King David, who was an adulterer and a murderer but who did the one thing that makes a vessel usable: he wept before the Lord and repented. Trump told a room full of evangelicals he has never asked God for forgiveness, called the body of Christ “my little cracker,” and then went home and sold you a $59.99 Bible with country music lyrics in it. By their fruits you shall know them (Matthew 7:16), and brother, this fruit has worms.

“RINO!” I’m a fiscal conservative Republican who voted for this man twice, which is twice more than most people yelling RINO have voted for anything that wasn’t a contestant on American Idol. I am warning you, from inside the same foxhole, that this is not Republicanism. It is a billionaire enriching his family through war while people on $20,000-a-year Social Security pensions cheer even when Tuesday contradicts Monday, which would require noticing, which would require reading something longer than a tweet.

Cancel your subscription if you want. I don’t want readers who can’t handle a fellow Republican saying the emperor has no clothes. But if you’ve got the spine to sit with uncomfortable information, know this: not one of those responses addresses evidence. They all attack the messenger. You are not on the billionaires’ team. You are on their spreadsheet. And every time you type “TDS” instead of engaging with evidence, you do their work for free, and they’re not even paying you for it, which might be the most insulting part.

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THE OLDEST CON IN CIVILIZATION AND HOW TO SPOT IT BEFORE YOUR GRANDKIDS PAY FOR IT

Here is how the con works, and it has worked the same way for three thousand years, which you’d think would make it easier to spot but apparently not because here we are again.

A demagogue does not need you to think. He needs you to feel. He figures out what you love and wraps himself in it, counting on you to follow the wrapping without checking inside. He says “Christian nations under God” and you hear faith, not a man who called communion “my little cracker” and couldn’t name a verse at gunpoint. He says “Greater North America” and you hear security, not a 90-year-old map drawn by fascists in grey suits whose ideological heir is the richest man on the planet. He says “America First” and you hear patriotism, not a family adding four billion dollars while your gas bill doubles and the office investigating it has two lawyers left.

The word itself is a warning. “Demagogue” from Greek: demos (people), agogos (leading). Look at it. Dema-GOG-ue. Now open Ezekiel 38. Gog. Revelation 20. Gog and Magog. The war at the end of days. I have studied Scripture for close to twenty years and I do not say this lightly: that word has been sitting in our language like a warning label nobody reads, and once you see it you cannot unsee it.

Technocracy Inc., a system where a technical elite manages all resources, controls all commerce, decides who buys and sells, operating beyond democratic accountability, sounds uncomfortably close to what Revelation describes as the system of the beast, which I’m sure is yet another coincidence in an article that is absolutely drowning in coincidences. That is not me reaching. That is a 90-year-old blueprint on the Pentagon’s wall being executed by a billionaire whose grandfather ran the Canadian branch of a Nazi-adjacent cult, dressed up in the cross of a faith the front man can’t fake convincingly (TWO CORINTHIANS, EVERYONE), and sold to you as God’s will by a Secretary of War standing in front of grandpa’s map.

You can listen to the billionaire in the silk suit with a lifetime of quotes proving he doesn’t believe in the God he invokes, surrounded by tech oligarchs whose grandfathers wore matching outfits and published documents saying you were too stupid to govern yourself. Or you can listen to the guy who walked away from managing money for a Taiwanese billionaire to write from a motel with water stains on the ceiling because he thought truth mattered more than a corner office.

One of us has a four-billion-dollar reason to lie to you. The other just wants to see this country make it another 250 years.

God does not want America at war so billionaires can redraw the map their grandfathers drew in 1940. God does not need your help bringing about the apocalypse. He is perfectly capable of ending the world without you rolling out the red carpet because some guy who thinks the Sermon on the Mount is about optometry told you it was patriotic. Your job is not to cheer for the fire. Your job is to grab a hose.

Either we fix this or God will. Last time was the Flood. I would very much prefer option one.

Share this article. Americans stormed Normandy and you’re afraid to hit a share button because someone might leave an angry emoji. The people who SHOULD be sounding the alarm are the same people cheering for the fire. That leaves us. Send this to the person you’re most afraid to send it to. That’s the one who needs it most. They were duped. So was I. The difference is I woke up. Help them wake up before these people win, because if they win, nobody is coming to save us.

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I’m writing this from a motel off the highway with water stains on the ceiling. This is the life I chose. I could be managing money for people who own islands. Truth matters more and I don’t take Bitcoin from propaganda mills for reading scripts. I don’t call myself the Wise Wolf because I’m smart. I call myself that because I’ve watched this pattern play out across history and every time someone sounds the alarm they end up ignored or dead. I would very much like to break that streak.

If your finger is hovering over the cancel button, ask any former Scientologist what happens in your brain when someone questions L. Ron Hubbard. The rage fires before the facts land. The leader gets criticized and something tightens in your chest and your first instinct is to attack the critic, not evaluate the criticism. If your reaction to this article is anger at me rather than curiosity about the evidence, that reflex was installed. You deserve better than to be someone else’s software. Don’t cancel. Read it again tomorrow when the anger wears off. Disagree on the facts if you can. That’s what free people do.

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I have been saying for over a year, to anyone who would listen (so, Lily and the voices in my head), that Kristi Noem is not a real politician. She is what happens when you order a Secretary of Homeland Security from the back pages of a magazine you hide under your mattress. Everything about this woman is produced. The hair costs more than your mortgage. The wardrobe changes faster than a Beyonce concert. She dressed up as a firefighter. Then a Coast Guard officer. Then a soldier. She pointed a loaded military rifle at a law enforcement officer’s head during one of these little cosplay sessions, which is the kind of thing that gets normal people arrested but gets Cabinet members a spread in Fox News.

Bryon Noem, International Man of Brassiere

On Tuesday the Daily Mail published photos of Bryon Noem, Kristi’s husband of 33 years, wearing pink hotpants and a shirt stuffed with balloons to simulate breasts while making a pouty face at his phone camera. He is 56 years old. He is the father of three. He looks like a middle school football coach who lost a bet, except he did not lose a bet. He did this recreationally.

The Daily Mail obtained hundreds of messages between Bryon and three different women from something called the “bimbofication” fetish scene, which is a thing that exists because God apparently stepped out to play eighteen holes and hasn’t checked His phone in a while. (Don’t worry. He’s coming back. And He’s bringing an army of extremely irritated angels.). Bryon told these women he wanted “huge, huge ridiculous boobs.” He asked one of them “would you ever go bigger?” He sent selfies in skimpy outfits. He said, and I quote, “you turn me into a girl.” He sent them at least $25,000 through PayPal and Cash App under the fake name “Jason Jackson,” which is the fakest fake name a man has ever chosen. You might as well call yourself Steve Americaman.

When the Daily Mail called him on the phone, Bryon did not deny any of it. Not the photos. Not the messages. Not the crossdressing. Not the $25,000 balloon budget. He only denied that his behavior put his wife at risk of blackmail, which is like a man treading water in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean denying he’s wet.

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“The Family Was Blindsided” and Other Fairy Tales

Kristi’s spokesperson released a statement saying she was “devastated” and “blindsided” and requesting “privacy and prayers.”

Okay. Sure. Let me just put on my enormous fake breasts and think about that for a second.

You do not spend 33 years married to a man and not know he has a $25,000 fetish habit involving balloons and pink underwear. You do not miss that. This is not like discovering your husband secretly prefers Pepsi. This is a man who was photographed looking like a cursed department store mannequin and wiring money to strangers under an alias. His Cash App history alone probably reads like a ransom note.

She wasn’t blindsided. She married him on purpose.

Kristi Noem is a woman who understood from a very young age that her body was her most valuable asset and she has leveraged it at every single level of her career with the precision of a Swiss watch that happens to own a push-up bra.

You don’t marry a rich insurance mogul with a secret fetish life by accident. You marry him because a rich pervert is a useful thing to have. He funds your ambitions. He doesn’t ask questions. He has secrets that keep him compliant. And if anyone ever finds out about his little hobby, you play devastated and ask for prayers and let the news cycle do its job.

This is a woman who was already credibly rumored to be having an affair with her top political advisor Corey Lewandowski. At some point you have to stop calling these things scandals and start calling them a business model.

The Part Where Foreign Spies Are Laughing at Us

Former CIA officer Marc Polymeropoulos told the Daily Mail something that should make you spit out your coffee. “If a media organization can find this out, you can assume with a high degree of confidence that a hostile intelligence service knows this as well.”

So while Kristi Noem was running the largest law enforcement department in the country, with access to classified counterterrorism operations and border security intelligence, her husband was sending fetish selfies to strangers on the internet under the name Jason Jackson. Every intelligence agency on earth with a functioning internet connection could have found this. The Chinese. The Russians. The Israelis. Probably the Canadians, and they apologize for everything.

Counterintelligence expert Jack Barsky called it “astounding.” I would call it something else but my mother reads this newsletter.

A man with a secret married to the head of DHS is not an embarrassment. He is a recruitment opportunity. That’s not my opinion. That is how espionage has worked since before any of us were born. You find the secret. You own the person. You own the person, you own what they have access to. What Bryon Noem had access to, through his wife, was the entire American homeland security apparatus.

But sure. Privacy and prayers.

She Dressed Up As Every Profession Except a Competent One

Let me remind you of Kristi Noem’s actual job performance, since everyone is now distracted by her husband’s Victoria’s Secret audition tape.

She personally insisted on reviewing every FEMA contract over $100,000. This is like the CEO of Amazon insisting on personally opening every package. It slowed disaster reimbursements to communities that had been waiting months or years for help. People whose houses were destroyed by hurricanes were stuck in bureaucratic limbo because Kristi needed to feel important.

Two U.S. citizens were fatally shot by federal agents in Minnesota during immigration enforcement operations on her watch. Their names were Renee Good and Alex Pretti. They are dead.

The Hypocrisy Is So Thick You Could Stuff It in a Shirt

This is the part that actually matters more than the tabloid spectacle.

Kristi Noem built her entire political identity on attacking gender nonconformity. She signed the Religious Freedom Restoration Act. She killed a state contract with a transgender advocacy organization. She banned trans TSA officers from conducting pat-downs. Every speech, every policy, every Fox News appearance was built on the idea that people who blur gender lines are a threat to your children and your country.

Her husband was at home in pink hotpants and balloon breasts asking fetish models to go bigger.

Every trans kid she targeted with policy. Every trans adult she told wasn’t welcome in public life. Every voter she convinced that gender nonconformity was a sign of civilizational collapse. She went home to a man who was doing the exact thing she told America to fear, and she funded her career with his money, and she smiled on camera the entire time.

That’s not hypocrisy. Hypocrisy is saying you’re on a diet while eating cake. This is building a political empire on the backs of people who are doing exactly what your husband does on Tuesday nights when you’re at a fundraiser. This is using real human beings as political props while living the same reality behind closed doors.

I told you something was off about that woman. I said she looked manufactured. I said she felt fake. I said nothing about her added up. I was right, and the specific way I was right involves balloons, which is funnier than anything I could have made up.

Now you know.

I walked away from a career managing money for people who own yachts so I could write about a politician’s husband wearing balloon breasts at two in the morning. If you had told 25-year-old Wolf this was his future he would have laughed and called you crazy. A paid subscription keeps the lights on and helps Lily finish her journalism degree without taking out loans. Unlike Bryon Noem, we don’t have $25,000 lying around for extracurricular activities. Unlike Kristi Noem, we are not pretending to be something we’re not. We’re just two weirdos trying to tell you the truth.

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The Wise Wolf

A wise man once said, 'Don't argue with a stupid person because they will just drag you down to their level and beat you with experience.'

By 🐺The Wise Wolf

I had a conversation recently with a friend of mine who is a computer scientist. Brilliant guy. The kind of person who thinks in logic gates and recursive functions the way most people think in words. He was also, until about two hours into our conversation, an atheist.

He isn’t anymore.

What changed his mind was not faith, not Scripture, not an emotional experience or a Sunday sermon. It was computation. It was the growing and increasingly unavoidable body of evidence that the universe itself operates like a computer, and that this computer was designed by an intelligence so far beyond our comprehension that the word “God” barely scratches the surface.

No jargon. No seminary-speak. Just physics, computer science, and the terrifying elegance of whatever built all of this.

The Universe Has No Render Distance

If you have ever played a video game, you are familiar with a concept called “distance culling.” Game developers cannot afford to render every object in the game world simultaneously because the computational cost would melt the hardware. So they cheat. Objects far from the player simply stop being calculated. Walk far enough from a building in an open world game and it vanishes from the simulation entirely. Get close again and it pops back into existence like a very expensive game of peekaboo. This optimization trick is universal in software engineering. You do not waste processing power on things that do not matter at the current scale.

The universe does not do this.

Gravity, as far as we can measure, never drops to zero. Earth’s gravitational influence on the Voyager probes, now billions of miles away in interstellar space, is still measurable. At twelve trillionths of the strength it exerts on your body right now, but measurable. Still being calculated. Still running. The universe is tracking your gravitational relationship with a spacecraft that left the solar system decades ago, and it is doing this for every particle simultaneously, and it is not even breathing hard.

My friend put it in terms that stopped me cold. “That’s an insane recursive function. It’s computationally expensive to maintain gravity at that fraction of a level across that distance.”

Every massive object in the observable universe is gravitationally interacting with every other massive object. Physicists call this the N-body problem, and its computational complexity is O(n²) at minimum. For every particle, you must calculate its gravitational interaction with every other particle. There are approximately 10⁸⁰ particles in the observable universe. And apparently there is no distance cutoff where the calculation stops.

No game engine ever built would attempt this. No human programmer would be foolish enough to try. The computational cost is, in the most literal sense, astronomical. (I apologize for nothing.)

And yet the universe runs it in real time without lag. Your Xbox crashes rendering a city block in Cyberpunk. The universe is tracking the gravitational interactions of 10⁸⁰ particles across 93 billion light-years and somehow has cycles left over to make flowers pretty.

The Optimization That Should Not Exist

In the 1980s, astronomer Mordehai Milgrom noticed something peculiar about the way galaxies rotate. At large enough scales, gravity does not behave the way Newton or Einstein predicted. Stars at the edges of galaxies orbit faster than they should. The standard explanation is dark matter, an invisible substance that makes up roughly 85% of all matter in the universe, has never been directly detected, and conveniently explains away every inconvenient measurement. Dark matter is the duct tape of astrophysics. Nobody can find it, nobody can prove it exists, but the math falls apart without it, so everyone just agrees to pretend it is there and moves on.

My friend called it “a magic number in programming.” In software development, a magic number is a hard-coded value that makes the math work without anyone understanding why. It is the sign of an inelegant hack. Something a junior developer adds at 3 AM when they cannot figure out the real solution and their manager wants results by morning.

But Milgrom proposed something different. His theory, Modified Newtonian Dynamics (MOND), suggests that gravity itself changes its behavior at extremely low accelerations. Below a threshold of about 1.2 × 10⁻¹⁰ meters per second squared, gravity shifts from an inverse-square law to a linear falloff.

My friend recognized this immediately. “It’s an optimization algorithm,” he said. “So the cost of computing gravity isn’t insane into infinity for no real gains.”

The universe appears to use the exact same optimization strategy that human software engineers use. At close range, where precision matters, gravity runs the full expensive calculation. At extreme distances, where the returns are negligible, it switches to a cheaper approximation. This is Level of Detail rendering. Every game engine on the planet uses it to avoid wasting resources on things the player cannot meaningfully perceive. The tree that looks photorealistic when you are standing next to it becomes a blurry smudge a mile away because nobody is going to notice and the GPU needs the headroom.

The universe is running LOD on gravity. And it is doing it better than any human engineer has ever managed.

Erik Verlinde, the Dutch theoretical physicist, published a landmark paper in 2016 arguing that gravity is not a fundamental force at all but an emergent phenomenon arising from the entanglement structure of spacetime. His theory of entropic gravity suggests that what we call gravitational attraction is actually the universe’s information architecture redistributing entropy. The “dark matter” effects we observe in galaxies are not caused by invisible matter. They are the universe’s memory management system correcting for entropy displacement.

When my friend read Verlinde’s paper, he went quiet for a while. Then he said something I will not forget.

“There is no information loss at this level.”

He meant that gravity’s behavior at cosmological scales shows the hallmarks of a system designed to conserve computational resources without sacrificing information fidelity. Not randomly. Not through blind physical process. Through architecture. Through design. Through the kind of engineering that gets you promoted if you pull it off at a Fortune 500 company, except this engineer built spacetime.

Error-Correcting Code at the Bottom of Reality

In 2012, theoretical physicist S. James Gates Jr., a professor at the University of Maryland who served on President Obama’s Council of Advisors on Science and Technology, made an announcement that should have been front-page news worldwide and was instead largely ignored. (In fairness, the Kardashians were probably doing something that week.)

Gates and his team, while working on the mathematics of supersymmetric string theory, discovered what appear to be error-correcting codes embedded in the equations that describe the fundamental structure of reality. Specifically, they found Block Linear Self-Dual Error-Correcting Codes, the same type of codes invented by mathematician Richard Hamming in the 1940s to ensure data integrity in early computer transmissions.

These codes do not emerge naturally from physics. They are not a mathematical coincidence. They are engineering. They exist to detect and correct errors in data transmission. They are the same class of codes running on your phone right now to make sure your text messages arrive intact. And Gates found them woven into the fabric of spacetime itself, near the Planck scale (roughly 1.6 × 10⁻³⁵ meters), which is the smallest meaningful unit of distance in the universe. The resolution of reality. The pixel size. And it has error correction running on it, like someone was worried about data corruption and planned ahead.

Reality has memory management.

My friend, who builds software systems for a living, understood the implications immediately. “If I found error-correcting code in a system, I would know without question that someone designed it. That code does not occur by accident. Not in any system. Ever.”

In thirty years of working with computers, I have never once seen error-correcting code appear spontaneously. Not once. It is always put there by someone who knew the system needed it.

The Word Was a Programming Language

There is a line in the Gospel of John that theologians have debated for two thousand years. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”

The Greek term translated as “Word” is “Logos,” which carries meanings far beyond its English translation. It means reason. It means order. It means the fundamental organizing principle of reality.

What strikes a computer scientist about this verse is not the theology. It is the engineering. God speaks and things come into existence. The Word is functionally a programming language. Two thousand years before Alan Turing, someone described the origin of the universe as an act of code execution and theologians have been arguing about it ever since without noticing what it actually says.

My friend sat with that for a while, and then he reframed the entire discussion. “We didn’t invent the computer,” he said. “We discovered it. Physics itself is basically a huge computer. For something to store information as on or off and have a memory is literally enough to build a computer.”

A computer, at its most fundamental level, is a system that stores state (on or off, one or zero) and manipulates that state according to rules. You can build a computer out of transistors. You can build one out of vacuum tubes. There is a guy on YouTube who builds functional logic gates out of cups and water. (I am not making this up.) Scale that up large enough and it would perform identically to your laptop. It would be the size of a city, but it would work.

Quantum mechanics is, at bottom, a system of discrete states (spin up, spin down, excited, ground) governed by mathematical rules. The universe is not “like” a computer. It is a computer. The substrate is different, but the architecture is the same.

And if the universe is a computer, someone wrote the code. Code does not write itself. (Despite what certain AI companies are currently promising their investors.)

Black Holes, Suns, and the Duality Written Into Everything

My friend pointed out something that deserves its own section. “Black holes are the ultimate destroyers from our perspective,” he said. “The sun is the ultimate creator or enabler. But they are basically the same thing just in different forms.”

The physics backs him up in ways that are almost unsettling. A black hole is, functionally, a star that has collapsed past its own Schwarzschild radius. The same fusion process that sustains life on Earth through our sun is the same process that, at sufficient scale, produces objects that consume light itself. Creation and destruction are not opposites in physics. They are the same mechanism running at different parameters. Same function, different inputs, wildly different outputs. Any programmer who has accidentally passed a negative value where a positive one was expected knows exactly how that works.

This duality runs through every level of reality. Matter and antimatter. Positive and negative charge. Wave and particle. Entropy and order. The universe is not built on unity. It is built on tension. On the dynamic interplay between opposing forces that, together, produce everything we observe. It is elegant in a way that suggests intention, because unintentional systems do not tend toward elegance. They tend toward the second law of thermodynamics, which is a fancy way of saying everything should be soup by now.

The Programmer’s Highest Compliment

Toward the end of our conversation, I made an observation that seemed to hit my friend harder than any of the physics. “I think God likes people who think about this stuff,” I said. “The highest compliment a programmer can ever get is someone trying to understand their code.”

He agreed. Then he said something that captures the shift that happened in his thinking that afternoon. “I always assumed that if absolutely nothing exists then it would be in an unstable state, and have to obligatorily create the opposite, every possibility, and that we exist within a branch of that.”

This is close to the Boltzmann Brain hypothesis, which suggests a fully formed, conscious brain flickering briefly into existence out of quantum noise is statistically more likely than the organized, law-abiding universe we actually observe. The fact that we live in a universe with consistent physical laws, stable matter, and comprehensible mathematics is, from a pure probability standpoint, wildly unlikely. Like winning the lottery. While being struck by lightning. On a Tuesday. During a solar eclipse. While a specific song plays on the radio.

Unless someone designed it that way.

My friend began our conversation as the honest kind of atheist. The kind who had simply never encountered an argument for God that did not require him to abandon reason. By the end, he had not found religion. He had found something more durable. He had found the same conclusion that Gates found in his string theory equations, that Verlinde found in his entropy mathematics, that every programmer who has ever stared at an elegant piece of code and recognized design has found.

The universe is not random. It is not an accident. It is a program running on a computer of incomprehensible scale, written in a language we are only beginning to learn to read, by an intelligence that left error-correcting code in the basement of reality like a signature in the margin of a masterpiece.

God is a computer programmer…

And from what I can tell, He is very, very good at it.

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The Wise Wolf

A wise man once said, 'Don't argue with a stupid person because they will just drag you down to their level and beat you with experience.'

By 🐺The Wise Wolf

If you call them demons, people pray. People resist. People reach for Scripture and spiritual authority and two thousand years of hard-won knowledge about what these things are and how to fight them. Churches mobilize. Grandmothers who have never heard the term “unidentified anomalous phenomena” get on their knees and intercede. The entire apparatus of spiritual warfare, tested across millennia and documented in the most widely distributed text in human history, activates.

If you call them aliens, people build landing pads.

People hold welcome signs. People assume anything capable of crossing interstellar space must be more advanced and therefore more enlightened and therefore here to help. Scientists get funding. Netflix gets a documentary. The United Nations drafts a contact protocol. Silicon Valley starts a nonprofit. Neil deGrasse Tyson goes on CNN and talks about what a wonderful moment this is for our species. Nobody fights. Nobody prays. Nobody resists. Everyone marvels.

The label is the weapon. It always has been.

Call the thing what it actually is and humanity has a playbook. Call it something else and you strip the playbook away. Every exorcist knows this. Every deliverance minister knows this. You cannot cast out what you refuse to name. The power is in the naming. It has been since Eden.

The entire disclosure apparatus, the domains, the emojis, the choreographed Obama-to-Trump pipeline, the Polymarket bets, the billion-dollar defense infrastructure, all of it, every piece, is a rebranding campaign. Same entities. Same door. Same ancient darkness on the other side of it. New packaging. Better marketing. A 👽 emoji instead of a warning label.

If Part 1 showed you the evidence, Part 2 is going to tell you what it means. And you are going to wish it was just aliens.

If you have not read Part 1 - start there.

The Whore of Babylon Is Not a Metaphor

Jack Parsons did not misunderstand what he was invoking. Aleister Crowley did not misunderstand what he was invoking. These were literate, studied men with extensive knowledge of biblical and occult texts. They knew exactly what the Babalon Working was designed to summon. They chose it deliberately.

The ritual’s namesake is not some benign pagan archetype. It is the Whore of Babylon from Revelation 17. The scarlet woman who sits upon a beast with seven heads and ten horns. The woman holding a golden cup “full of abominations and the filthiness of her fornication.” The woman described as “drunk with the blood of the saints, and with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus.”

That is the entity Parsons set out to bring into the world. Not a metaphor. Not a symbol. The stated, documented, written-down-in-his-own-hand objective was to produce a physical incarnation of the figure described in the Apocalypse of John. A “moonchild.” A vessel for this entity to inhabit on earth. To bring Revelation 17 into material reality.

The serpent in the garden is the hero. The Whore of Babylon is the liberator. Lucifer is the light-bringer. This is not a secret. This is published. This is what Parsons studied, practiced, and staked his life on.

He performed those rituals in the desert in 1946. He said the door opened. His associates said the door opened. Kenneth Grant said “Parsons opened a door and something flew in.” The skies over America filled with objects that defied known physics.

And the government knows all of this. They employed Parsons. They monitored Parsons. The FBI had a file on Parsons. The Department of Defense has had access to his writings, his case files, and his associates’ testimony for eighty years. They know what was invoked. They know the name. They know the source text.

They registered alien.gov anyway.

The Two Physicists at the Cornhusker Hotel

November 25, 1991. Lincoln, Nebraska. A cold Monday.

Ray Boeche, an Anglican priest, walked into the Cornhusker Hotel for a meeting that would redefine his understanding of everything. Boeche was not a crank. He held a B.A. from Peru State College and a Master of Theology from St. Mark’s School of Divinity. He was the founder of the Fortean Research Center and a former Nebraska State Director for the Mutual UFO Network. He was, by any reasonable measure, one of the most credible and methodical investigators working in the field of unexplained phenomena in America.

Two Department of Defense physicists had contacted him. They identified themselves only as “James” and “Richard.” They said they were struggling with the morality of their classified work and they needed to talk to a theologian.

Over the course of three hours, they told Boeche things that would keep a reasonable person awake for the rest of their life.

They described a classified Pentagon program designed to make contact with nonhuman entities. Not through radio telescopes. Not through mathematical signals beamed into space. Through methods that would be immediately recognizable to anyone familiar with the ritual traditions of Crowley and Parsons. Occult-adjacent methodologies applied with government funding and military oversight.

Every interaction, regardless of how beneficial it appeared at first, ended badly. Every piece of knowledge came with a cost. The entities presented themselves as extraterrestrial. The physicists had come to believe they were not. They were, in the assessment of two men with advanced degrees and Department of Defense security clearances, demonic.

Boeche later recounted their position: “They felt it really fell more under the category of some vast spiritual deception instead of UFOs and aliens. In the course of the whole discussion, it was clear that they really viewed this as having a demonic origin that was there to simply try and confuse the issue in terms of who they were, what they wanted, and what the source of the ultimate truth is.”

The physicists showed Boeche photographs. Post-mortem photographs. People who had died during the program’s experiments. Hearts stopped remotely. Suffocations with no apparent physical cause. Test subjects killed while hooked up to EEG and EKG machines, their brain and heart activity recorded as something reached across the boundary and shut them off.

The men on the project believed they were learning to control these abilities. The physicists who came to Boeche believed something else entirely. They believed the entities were allowing the illusion of control. Giving enough to keep the program running. Taking everything in return.

This is the origin story of what would later be called the Collins Elite. A group inside the US defense and intelligence establishment that concluded, through direct experience with the phenomenon, that it is not extraterrestrial. It is spiritual. It is predatory. And it is lying about what it is.

They have been trying to warn people for over thirty years. Almost nobody has listened.

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“They Call Them Interdimensional Beings”

The Collins Elite are not alone in their assessment. And the voices are no longer anonymous.

Florida Congresswoman Anna Paulina Luna, a former US Air Force service member who now chairs the House Task Force on the Declassification of Federal Secrets, went on Joe Rogan’s podcast and said it plainly. “They call them interdimensional beings. I think that they can actually operate through the time-spaces that we currently have.”

Luna said she has viewed classified photographs inside a SCIF, a Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility, and that the objects depicted were “not made by mankind.” She said every whistleblower and military witness she has questioned has given the same answer about what these things are: interdimensional.

Not extraterrestrial. Not from another planet. From another dimension.

She went further. She referenced ancient texts, “including missing biblical writings,” that she believes describe the same type of encounters. She told Rogan: “Is there historical significance to this? Yes. Is there multiple events that go back to, I would argue, maybe even before the time of Christ that have documented this in text? Yes.”

Luna also described being blocked by the Pentagon when she tried to access information. She was denied access to pilots and evidence at Eglin Air Force Base despite being on a congressional delegation. The base commander told her she didn’t have authorized clearance. A sitting member of Congress, on an official oversight visit, was told by a base commander that she could not see the evidence.

She pushed back. She said, “You don’t tell Congress that we don’t have the authorized clearance.”

So the picture inside the government is this. One faction wants to open the door wider. They want disclosure. They want the technology. They want the future that contact promises. Another faction, represented by the Collins Elite, by the two terrified physicists who sat in a Nebraska hotel room in 1991, by the congresswoman who says these things move “outside of time and space,” is saying the entities on the other side of that door are not what the first faction claims.

The first faction is winning. The second faction’s allies keep turning up dead.

And the American public is being prepared to welcome whatever comes through with open arms and alien emojis.

Genesis 6 Already Told You How This Ends

None of this is new.

The boundary between human and nonhuman has been breached before. It is in your Bible. And the consequences are recorded in terms that leave no room for ambiguity.

Genesis 6:1-4. “Now it came to pass, when men began to multiply on the face of the earth, and daughters were born to them, that the sons of God saw the daughters of men, that they were beautiful; and they took wives for themselves of all whom they chose.”

“Sons of God” in the Hebrew is “B’nai Elohim.” This is not a poetic term for human men who were really spiritual. The same phrase appears in Job 1:6, where the B’nai Elohim present themselves before God and Satan is among them. It appears in Job 38:7, describing beings that existed before the creation of the earth. The term refers to angelic, nonhuman entities. The early church fathers understood this. Justin Martyr understood it. Irenaeus understood it. Clement of Alexandria understood it. Tertullian understood it. This was the consensus position of the early church for centuries before it became theologically inconvenient.

It was the Flood.

The Book of Enoch, quoted directly by Jude in the New Testament, expands the account. The Watchers descended. They taught humanity forbidden knowledge: weapons of war, sorcery, astrology, cosmetics. They corrupted the genetic line. They produced giants who consumed everything on the earth and then began consuming humans.

The pattern is simple. Nonhuman entities cross the boundary. They offer knowledge and power. The knowledge and power come with corruption that metastasizes until the host civilization is beyond saving. Judgment follows.

This is not a one-time event buried in ancient history. Daniel 2:43 describes the end-times kingdom in language that echoes Genesis 6: “They shall mingle themselves with the seed of men, but they shall not cleave one to another.” Mingling. Hybridization. The boundary breached again. In the last days.

Every single time this boundary is crossed in Scripture, catastrophic judgment follows. Every time. No exceptions.

And the United States government is preparing to cross it again. Deliberately. Publicly. With a marketing campaign.

The Oldest Deal in the Bible

Why would anyone in government do this knowingly?

Genesis 3:5. “You will be like God.”

The serpent in the garden did not say “I will destroy you.” The serpent said “I will elevate you.” The pitch has not changed in six thousand years. Knowledge. Power. Transcendence. Godhood. The price is always hidden in the fine print and the fine print is always your soul and the souls of everyone you were supposed to protect.

The Collins Elite concluded, after decades of classified research, that the entities “feed” on human energy and emotions. Fear. Pain. Sexual energy. That their ultimate goal is what the group described in internal documents as “the harvest of the human soul.”

The people running the disclosure campaign do not care. They do not care what the entities are. They care what the entities can offer. They have been told, by their own physicists, by their own internal review groups, by people who watched test subjects die on laboratory tables, that these things are deceptive and dangerous and malevolent. And they are moving forward anyway. Because the technology is worth it. Because the weapons are worth it. Because becoming gods is worth it.

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They would trade humanity’s spiritual birthright for a weapons upgrade. They would open the door to something the Bible explicitly says will devour everything it touches because they believe they are smart enough to control it. They believe they can cut a deal with the darkness and walk away clean.

The physicists who sat in that Nebraska hotel room in 1991 tried to tell someone. The entities allow the illusion of control. They give just enough to keep the deal alive. The cost is borne by the rest of us.

It has never worked. Not in Genesis 3. Not in Genesis 6. Not in the courts of Pharaoh. Not in Babylon. Not in every empire that tried to harness spiritual power for military advantage and found out too late that the power was harnessing them.

The Book That Told You First

Revelation 9 describes entities released from the abyss. A king over them whose name in Hebrew is Abaddon. The Destroyer.

Revelation 12 describes a war in heaven that results in spiritual entities being cast down to the earth. “Woe to the inhabitants of the earth and the sea, for the devil has come down to you, having great wrath, because he knows that he has a short time.”

Revelation 13 describes the world marveling at the Beast. Worshipping it. Asking the question the disclosure campaign is designed to produce: “Who is like the Beast? Who is able to make war with him?” That is the voice of a population that has been convinced resistance is pointless. That the power on the other side of the door is too great to oppose.

You are watching the kings of the earth being gathered. The signs are being performed. The domains are being registered. The emojis are being sent. The scientists who could have built countermeasures are dead or missing. The congressman asking questions is telling you on television he’s not suicidal.

The disclosure is the deception.

And the one Book that warned you about all of it two thousand years before it happened is the one document the people running this operation never want you to pick up.

What You Do Now

This is not a theological sidebar. This is operational.

If the entities are spiritual, the weapons are spiritual. Ephesians 6:12. “For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.”

That is not poetry. That is a tactical briefing. Paul wrote it to a church living under Roman military occupation and he used military language on purpose. Belt of truth. Breastplate of righteousness. Shield of faith. Helmet of salvation. Sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. This is armor. This is weaponry. You have been issued it. Use it.

Refuse the frame. When they tell you these are aliens, say no. When they tell you this is first contact, say no. When they tell you the technology is too advanced to be anything but extraterrestrial, remember that the serpent offered advanced knowledge too. Knowledge of good and evil. The first upgrade. The first promise that you could be like God. Humanity took that deal once. It did not go well.

Get into Scripture. Not the watered-down version. Not the prosperity gospel. Not the forty-five-minute Sunday morning pep talk designed to make you feel good about your week. The actual text. Genesis 6. Daniel 2. Revelation 9, 12, 13, 16. The Book of Enoch. Read it in Hebrew and Greek if you can manage it. Understand what the words actually say before someone with a PhD and a security clearance tells you they mean something else.

Pray. Not the comfortable kind. The kind that costs something. The kind the apostles prayed in Acts 4 when the authorities told them to shut up and they said absolutely not. The kind Daniel prayed in chapter 10 when the angel told him the answer had been delayed twenty-one days because a demonic principality was blocking it. The kind of prayer that treats the spiritual realm as real, the threat as present, and the victory as already accomplished by someone who outranks every entity on either side of that door.

The same Book that told you this was coming also tells you how it ends. Revelation 20. The Beast is captured. The false prophet is captured. They are thrown into the lake of fire. The dragon, the ancient serpent, is bound and cast into the abyss for a thousand years. Then released, briefly, then thrown into the lake of fire forever.

It does not end with them winning. But it does end with a test. A test of whether you believed the lie or whether you read the warning.

The door is open. The entities are here. The government wants you to call them aliens and roll out the welcome mat.

The Bible calls them something else. And it told you exactly what to do when they showed up.

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The Wise Wolf left a career in finance to do this. That decision has cost me more than I will ever put in print. Two impacted wisdom teeth are currently trying to kill me through my bloodstream because independent journalism does not come with dental coverage. Lily is finishing her degree while riding the bus because it does not come with a company car either. We do not have a corporate sponsor. We do not have a billionaire benefactor. We have you.

If this series made you think, share it. If it made you pray, good. If it made you angry, even better. That means you’re paying attention. A paid subscription keeps us in this fight. Keeps the research funded. Keeps the lights on. Keeps me alive long enough to keep writing things that the people with emojis and security clearances would rather I didn’t.

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Sources

IBTimes UK, “Congresswoman Anna Paulina Luna: UFOs Are Inter-dimensional, Not Aliens, And the Pentagon Is Hiding It,” March 2026.

Audacy/KRLD, “Florida congresswoman claims evidence of ‘interdimensional beings,’” March 2026.

E! Online, “U.S. Representative Anna Paulina Luna Details Evidence of ‘Interdimensional Beings,’” August 2025.

NewsNation, “Anna Paulina Luna ‘very confident’ interdimensional beings exist,” August 2025.

IBTimes, “UFO Footage: Anna Paulina Luna Asks Why Data Is Hiding Under Black Congressional Budget,” November 2025.

Wikipedia, “Final Events” (Collins Elite origin, Boeche meeting, Elizondo confirmation).

Rod Dreher’s Diary/Substack, “Who Are The Collins Elite?” December 2024.

Fringe Archives, “Collins Elite: Secret Group Linking UFOs to Demons,” February 2025.

Fortean Winds, “Aliens vs. Demons: Insights from the Final Events Timeline,” January 2026.

Coast to Coast AM, “Aliens & Secret Govt. Group” (Nick Redfern interview on Collins Elite).

James Carner Official, “The Collins Elite” (Redfern interview, Boeche testimony).

Mysterious Universe, “Pacts of the Faustian Kind” (Nick Redfern, NHE weaponization).

IBTimes UK, “Pentagon Believes Babylon Working Rituals Could Have Triggered First Major UFO Wave,” March 2026.

All biblical citations from the New King James Version unless otherwise noted.

Book of Enoch references from R.H. Charles translation, 1917.

The Wise Wolf

A wise man once said, 'Don't argue with a stupid person because they will just drag you down to their level and beat you with experience.'

By 🐺The Wise Wolf

Jack Parsons was not a crank.

He was one of the most important rocket scientists in American history. A co-founder of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory. A co-founder of Aerojet Engineering Corporation, the first American manufacturer of rocket engines. The inventor of castable composite solid rocket propellant, the breakthrough that transformed rocketry from a parlor trick into a viable technology. His fuel formulations powered the solid rocket boosters on the Space Shuttle. They powered Minuteman intercontinental ballistic missiles. They powered Polaris submarines. The United States military’s ability to project force across the globe traces a direct line back to the chemistry that came out of this man’s brain.

He held security clearances at the highest levels. The US Navy ordered 20,000 of his JATO rocket units per month during World War II. Theodore von Kármán, the legendary Caltech aerodynamics pioneer, personally mentored him and staked his own reputation on Parsons’ genius. There is a crater on the dark side of the moon named after him.

The man who made American spaceflight possible was also a self-proclaimed Antichrist and Aleister Crowley’s most devoted American disciple.

This is not gossip. This is not embellishment. This is documented, sourced, and a matter of public record. Parsons led the Agape Lodge of the Ordo Templi Orientis in Pasadena, California. He turned his mansion on Millionaire’s Row into a commune where rocket engineers, Hollywood actors, occultists, and sexual libertines lived side by side under the banner of Crowley’s Thelema. He recited Crowley’s “Hymn to Pan” before rocket tests. His roommate and ritual partner was a US Navy officer named L. Ron Hubbard, who would go on to found Scientology. The FBI had a file on him. Caltech was embarrassed by him. His colleagues at JPL eventually forced him out. But nobody ever questioned his brilliance.

This is not a metaphor Parsons would have objected to. He knew exactly what he was invoking. He was working from Crowley’s own liturgy, a system of ceremonial sex magic designed to rip open the boundary between the material world and whatever writhes on the other side of it.

His own writings and the testimony of those around him are unambiguous. Parsons believed the ritual succeeded. He claimed he had torn a hole in the fabric between dimensions. Not symbolically. Literally. He said he opened a portal.

He also said he was the only person who could close it…

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On June 17, 1952, Jack Parsons died in a catastrophic explosion in his home laboratory in Pasadena. He was 37. The precise cause has never been established. Theories range from accident to suicide to assassination. His mother killed herself hours after learning of his death. The man who could close the door was gone.

Weeks later, in July 1952, the United States experienced one of the most dramatic UFO events in its history. On consecutive weekends, objects appeared on military radar over Washington D.C. Fighter jets scrambled to intercept. They found nothing they could explain. The Air Force held its largest press conference since World War II. They had no answers.

Kenneth Grant, Crowley’s chosen successor and head of the Typhonian O.T.O., would later summarize the sequence in a single sentence that should haunt every person involved in what is happening right now: “Parsons opened a door and something flew in.”

That door has been open for eighty years. And cultists inside the United States government built a welcome mat on the other side of it.

The Hype Campaign from Hell

On March 18, 2026, the Executive Office of the President registered two new federal domains through the Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency: alien.gov and aliens.gov.

This is not speculation. These are publicly available federal domain records. CISA, which oversees the .gov registry, confirmed the registrations. Both domains are hosted on Cloudflare servers. Neither has a live website. No official explanation has been offered for their purpose.

But here is the detail that should stop you cold. At the time of registration, CISA was not accepting new .gov domain requests. Federal funding had lapsed. The system was frozen.

And yet someone at the White House picked up the phone (or sent the email, or filed the form) and made a special exception. For alien.gov.

Am I the only one that thinks that is weird?

That is the official response of the United States of America to the question of why it registered internet domains about alien life during a government funding freeze. A cartoon alien face. The same alien emoji that Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth had already posted on social media weeks earlier when he shared Trump’s declassification directive. Coordinated emoji usage between the Secretary of Defense and the White House communications office.

The most powerful government on earth is running a teaser campaign about nonhuman intelligence with the emotional sophistication of a teenager posting cryptic shit on Instagram. And the Washington press corps printed it without blinking.

Rewind three weeks. February 14, 2026. Former President Barack Obama sits down with podcaster Brian Tyler Cohen. During a lightning round at the end of the interview, Cohen asks: “Are aliens real?”

Obama answers: “They’re real.”

He adds that he hasn’t seen them. Says they’re not at Area 51. Then drops this: “Unless there’s this enormous conspiracy, and they hid it from the President of the United States.” When asked what his first question was after becoming president, Obama says, “Where are the aliens?” and laughs.

Twenty-four hours later, Obama walked it back on Instagram. Just a statistical observation about the vastness of the universe, he said. Nothing to see here. But the fuse was already lit.

Five days later, Donald Trump told reporters aboard Air Force One that Obama had leaked classified information. Within hours, Trump posted on Truth Social directing federal agencies to begin releasing government files on alien and extraterrestrial life, UAPs, and UFOs. Defense Secretary Hegseth confirmed the Pentagon was working on compliance. The alien emoji went out. The domains got registered. Polymarket odds on confirmed alien contact before 2027 spiked to 16 percent, with trading volume exceeding $17 million.

You are watching a product launch. Whatever they are selling, you are the customer. And nobody is asking you if you want to buy.

The Kill List

While the government was building its disclosure infrastructure, the people with the brains to understand what is actually happening started dying.

Nuno Loureiro. Age 47. Director of MIT’s Plasma Science and Fusion Center. One of the foremost minds in plasma physics, fusion energy, and turbulence research. The kind of work that could break the global energy monopoly or produce directed energy weapons capable of things most people cannot imagine. Shot multiple times at his home in Brookline, Massachusetts. December 2025.

Carl Grillmair. Age 67. Caltech astrophysicist. His research contributed to the discovery of water on a distant planet and was considered significant for identifying potential signs of life within 160 light-years of Earth. Shot and killed on his front porch at six o’clock in the morning. February 16, 2026.

Major General William Neil McCasland. Age 68. Retired. Former commander of the Air Force Research Laboratory at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base. Oversaw a $2.2 billion science and technology portfolio. Named in WikiLeaks emails as an advisor to Tom DeLonge’s UFO disclosure organization. Considered one of the military’s foremost experts on unidentified aerial phenomena. Vanished from his Albuquerque home on February 27, 2026. Left without his phone. Left without his glasses.

Monica Jacinto Reza. Age 60. Senior scientist at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory. Co-inventor of Mondaloy, an advanced rocket alloy that ended American dependence on Russian-made components for critical space launch systems. Vanished while hiking with friends in the Angeles National Forest. June 2025. Two companions saw her thirty feet away on the trail. When they turned back, she was gone. An online memorial appeared days later claiming she was dead. Then the memorial vanished.

Melissa Casias. Age 54. Administrative assistant at Los Alamos National Laboratory. The facility founded by the Manhattan Project. Disappeared June 26, 2025, four days after Reza. Her phones were found at home, factory reset. Someone wiped them clean.

Jason Thomas. Age 45. Assistant director of chemical biology at Novartis. Vanished from his home in Wakefield, Massachusetts in December 2025. His body was pulled from a lake on March 17, 2026.

Six people in eight months. Fusion energy. Astrophysics. Particle beam weapons. Advanced rocket alloys. Nuclear weapons research. Chemical biology.

Investigative journalist Ross Coulthart said on NewsNation that McCasland had “some of the most sensitive U.S. military intelligence secrets in his head, especially particle beam technology.” Former FBI official Chris Swecker called foreign espionage the most plausible explanation.

Maybe. Or maybe these were the minds that understood the physics behind whatever is being disclosed. The ones capable of building countermeasures. The ones who could have looked at the data and said: this is not what they are telling you it is.

And now they are gone.

“I’m Not Suicidal”

Four days ago, Tennessee Congressman Tim Burchett went on camera and said something that should terrify every American regardless of what they believe about aliens or demons or government conspiracies.

He said: “Something dark is going on. I know these scientists and researchers. They have testified. We’ve got to get to the bottom of it.”

Then he said: “It’s just too much, too much is going on right now. And by the way, I’m not suicidal.”

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A sitting United States congressman, on the record, looked into a camera and publicly established that he has no intention of killing himself. Not in a sealed letter with his lawyer. Not in a quiet conversation with a colleague. On national television. As a preemptive measure. Because he is asking questions about researchers connected to UFO programs and advanced weapons development who are turning up dead.

Burchett is not new to this fight. He helped organize the 2023 House Oversight hearing where former intelligence officer David Grusch testified under oath that the US government runs a decades-long crash retrieval and reverse-engineering program for non-human technology. Burchett has publicly stated the government possesses technology capable of, in his words, turning us “into a charcoal briquette.” He has claimed the government is aware of underwater alien bases at multiple locations on Earth.

You can debate every one of those claims. But the man has access to classified briefings. His colleagues have testified under oath. And he has now made a public dead man’s switch statement because the people who share his area of inquiry are disappearing.

When a congressman has to tell you on television that he’s not planning to kill himself, the question is no longer whether something is going on. The question is what.

The Door That Never Closed

There is a faction inside the United States defense and intelligence establishment that has been saying for decades that unidentified aerial phenomena are not extraterrestrial. They are demonic.

This is not fringe speculation. Luis Elizondo, former head of the Pentagon’s Advanced Aerospace Threat Identification Program, has publicly confirmed the existence of a group inside the defense apparatus that he calls the Collins Elite. Their position: the entities behind the UAP phenomenon are not visitors from another star system. They are spiritual beings. Interdimensional. And engaging with them is not science. It is an open invitation to something ancient, intelligent, and predatory.

Elizondo has described a Pentagon “riven top to bottom with unstable people who believe they are spiritual warriors holding back the tide of a literal demon invasion.” That is a direct characterization from a former senior Pentagon intelligence official describing his colleagues. People with clearances. People with access to the data.

Read that quote again. Pay attention to the word “unstable.”

Ask yourself something. What if Elizondo is not the whistleblower? What if he’s the cleanup crew? What if his job is to take the people inside the defense establishment who figured out exactly what they’re dealing with and paint them as religious fanatics? Because that word does a lot of work. “Unstable.” It makes you picture sweaty men in a bunker clutching rosaries and ranting about Satan. It does not make you picture seasoned intelligence professionals with decades of classified access who looked at the data and arrived at a conclusion so terrifying that they have no idea how to fight it without ending up dead.

What if the Collins Elite aren’t crazy? What if they’re the only sane people in the building? And what if calling them unstable spiritual warriors is the most efficient way to make sure nobody listens to them before the door gets opened the rest of the way?

Reports surfaced this month in the British press that Pentagon insiders believe the Babalon Working, the ritual Jack Parsons performed in the Mojave Desert in 1946, may have triggered the first major UFO wave in American history. That a rocket scientist invoking the Whore of Babylon in the desert opened something that has never been shut.

Now look at what Crowley himself left us.

In 1918, twenty-eight years before Parsons performed the Babalon Working, Aleister Crowley conducted a series of rituals in New York called the Amalantrah Working. He claimed to make contact with an interdimensional entity. He drew its portrait. He called it LAM. The drawing shows a figure with a massive bulbous cranium, slitted eyes angled upward, a tiny slit of a mouth, no hair, smooth grey skin, and an elongated face tapering to a narrow chin.

But Crowley drew it in 1918. After a ritual to summon a demon.

Now look at your phone. Look at the emoji the White House chose for its disclosure campaign. 👽. The bulbous head. The big dark eyes. The grey skin. The narrow chin.

It’s the same damn face.

These are not ‘aliens’ these are DEMONS.

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The entity an avowed Satanist, child sacrifice advocate, and self-described “wickedest man in the world” sketched during a demonic conjuration over a century ago is the face the United States government selected to market the biggest reveal in human history.

They are not introducing you to visitors from another planet. They are introducing you to the thing that came through the door Jack Parsons opened in 1946. The door he said only he could close. The door that has been open for eighty years while the brightest minds who might have understood how to fight what’s on the other side are being systematically removed from the board.

The Book of Revelation describes what rides through that door. It has a name. It has a purpose. And it is not here to help.

Part 2 will name it. And you are going to wish I hadn’t.

Thanks for reading!

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The Wise Wolf could have stayed in finance. Could have kept managing portfolios for people who own islands and have dentists on retainer. Instead I’m writing about demonic entities being marketed as space friends by a government that communicates through alien emojis while scientists who could fight back keep turning up dead. This is the life I chose. No regrets. Okay, one regret. I should have gotten my wisdom teeth out when I was seventeen.

Two impacted wisdom teeth. Both infected. My dentist says I need an oral surgeon and twelve thousand dollars I do not have. He also says if I don’t get them out soon, the infection is going to keep draining into my bloodstream. I’ve already had two heart infections in my left ventricle in the past year. Apparently your teeth can kill you. Nobody warns you about that when you decide to become an independent journalist instead of staying in a career with a dental plan.

This is what independent media actually looks like. It’s not glamorous. It’s not lucrative. It’s writing about things that get people killed while hoping your teeth don’t do the job first. Lily is finishing her journalism degree and I refuse to let her inherit this version of the hustle. She deserves to enter this profession without choosing between rent and a root canal. She deserves a car that isn’t the city bus. She deserves a shot at doing this work without the poverty tax that comes with refusing to kneel to billionaire-owned corporate media.

A paid subscription keeps the lights on. Keeps Lily in school. Keeps me alive long enough to write Part 2 and possibly long enough to see an oral surgeon before my own teeth finish what the cartel members and military intelligence types apparently couldn’t. If this reporting matters to you, help us keep doing it. We are two people with no safety net and no corporate sponsor telling you things nobody else will.

Help keep the Wise Wolf howling. (Preferably with all his teeth.)

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Sources

DefenseScoop, “White House registers new ‘alien’-related .gov domains as DOD tackles Trump’s disclosure directive,” March 18, 2026.

Vice, “The U.S. Government Just Bought a Suspicious One-Word .Gov Domain, and It’s Tied to Aliens,” March 2026.

NewsNation, “Did the federal government register aliens.gov? Internet sleuths think so,” March 2026.

Time, “Obama Says Aliens Are ‘Real,’ But They Aren’t at Area 51,” February 15, 2026.

CNN, “Obama clarifies alien comments after telling podcast ‘they’re real,’” February 16, 2026.

Poynter, “Why Donald Trump and Barack Obama are suddenly talking about aliens,” February 23, 2026.

HNGN, “Are UFO Scientists Being Targeted? Recent Deaths and Disappearances Spark Concerns,” March 24, 2026.

Daily Caller, “High-Profile Scientists Keep Winding Up Dead Or Missing,” March 23, 2026.

IBTimes UK, “UFO General and NASA Boffin Vanish,” March 25, 2026.

Brobible, “Tennessee Congressman Issues Warning About ‘Dark’ Trend Of UFO Scientists Being Found Dead Or Missing,” March 25, 2026.

Wikipedia, “National Space Intelligence Center” (Space Delta 18 emblem description and history).

Grey Dynamics, “Space Delta 18: Intelligence in the US Space Force” (emblem symbology breakdown).

Wall Street Journal / LiveNOW from FOX, “Pentagon planted UFO myths to hide secret weapons programs,” June 2025.

NewsNation, “Pentagon spread UFO myths to hide classified projects,” June 2025.

IBTimes UK, “Pentagon Believes Babylon Working Rituals Could Have Triggered First Major UFO Wave,” March 2026.

Wikipedia, “Final Events” (Collins Elite, Elizondo’s characterization of Pentagon demonic faction).

Wikipedia, “Jack Parsons” (biography, JPL founding, Babalon Working, death).

Britannica, “Jack Parsons” (biography, rocket contributions, occult activities).

Pasadena Now, “How Jack Parsons and the Suicide Squad Created a ‘New Paradigm in Rocketry’” (self-proclaimed Antichrist, death details).

Inkl, “Is something big coming?: US buys ‘aliens.gov’ domain sparking UFO speculation” (Polymarket data, Grusch testimony).

Newsweek, “Trump’s office registers Aliens.gov website: what to know,” March 2026.

Time, “Hegseth Shares Update on Government Release of Alien Files,” March 2026.

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The Wise Wolf

A wise man once said, 'Don't argue with a stupid person because they will just drag you down to their level and beat you with experience.'

By 🐺The Wise Wolf

This week the Wise Wolf published a piece making the following observation: the Transportation Security Administration, which is the federal agency whose entire job is preventing terrorists from bringing explosives onto airplanes, cannot get paid, but the United States government somehow located several billion dollars to help fund Israel’s war with Iran. Wolf presented this as a problem.

Thirty paid subscribers presented it as a reason to cancel.

I want to be clear that I am not going to argue with those thirty people, partly because Wolf already made the argument very thoroughly and partly because I am a journalism student who depends on this newsletter to pay my rent, which they are not currently doing because thirty people just cancelled. What I will say is that if you ever find yourself on a plane that does not explode because a TSA agent caught something at the security checkpoint, maybe think about that for a second. Maybe think about whether that person went home and paid their rent. Maybe think about the fact that we apparently have strong opinions about which government agencies deserve to get funded and which ones do not, and maybe consider that the agency responsible for not letting bombs onto planes might reasonably appear on the “deserves funding” list. Maybe. Just a thought. I’m just a college student.

What do I know?

Wolf was pacing. I know he was pacing because he texted me 5 times in a row about the ‘Satanic, Babylonian monetary system’, which is the textual equivalent of watching a man pace, and I texted back “take a Benadryl and go to sleep.” He argued for about four minutes, which I know sounds like not very long, but Wolf is a man who will debate the provenance of a biblical manuscript for six hours and still think he was just getting warmed up, so four minutes of argument followed by silence means I won decisively. He went to sleep.

This left me with a Friday deadline, a blank document, and the creative pressure of knowing that whatever I wrote needed to be good enough to make our remaining subscribers want to share it instead of also cancelling. No big deal. No pressure. I do this all the time.

(I have never done this before.)

I had absolutely nothing. I sat with the blank document for a while. I made coffee. I looked at the coffee. I thought about how Wolf gets to travel around the country as a transient journalist looking for quirky things to write about and theoretically a woman willing to lower her standards far enough to go on a second date with him, and I thought about how I get to take the bus to class, and I thought about how neither of these situations was currently helping me write a funny article.

Then I thought about the other day my friend Cassie drove me home from class and we went past a church on the corner and the sign out front said:

‘HOW DO YOU MAKE HOLY WATER? YOU BURN THE HELL OUT OF IT.’

I told Cassie to slow down. I wanted a picture. And then it happened: I saw the sign and it literally opened my eyes.

The point is, I saw the sign. And I realized that was the article.

Here is the thing about church signs that I have been thinking about ever since Cassie’s car. Somebody has to make the call. There is a moment, presumably happening in churches all across America right now, where a real human adult stands in front of a box of plastic letters and decides what message they want to send to the people driving past on a Tuesday. This is a real decision. It has real consequences. And the range of decisions being made is genuinely staggering.

Some churches go with dignified. “His grace is sufficient.” True. Classic. Nobody is going to slow down for that, but nobody is going to have to explain it to their grandmother either.

Some churches go with threatening. I have driven past “Turn or burn” at forty miles an hour and still felt personally implicated. Those signs are working hard. You have to respect the commitment even if you are not entirely on board with the marketing strategy.

And then there is a third kind of church, and this is the kind I want to talk about, which is the churches that decided the whole operation needed some levity and just went for it. These are the churches run by people who believe that if God has a sense of humor, which I personally believe He absolutely does because have you looked at a platypus recently, then the sign out front should probably reflect that.

These are my people.

I spent way too much time looking at church signs on Google images instead of doing literally anything else I was supposed to be doing, and I want to share the best ones I found, because we have had a rough week and you deserve something that will make you want to text the link to your cousin in another state. Not because it will get us new paid subscribers, although it might, and if it does please know that the money goes toward things like my bus pass and Wolf’s ongoing refusal to address his health situation, which he handles by simply not thinking about it, which is a strategy I am told is common among journalists and not great for longevity.

But mostly because somebody out there is standing in front of a box of plastic letters with a very specific idea, and they deserve an audience larger than the people turning left on a Tuesday.

No geopolitics. No bloodlines. No central banking. No subscribers cancelling because arithmetic made them uncomfortable. Just church signs from people who figured God could take a joke.

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If this made you laugh hard enough that you accidentally texted it to someone, maybe consider becoming a paid subscriber. Wolf is still asleep on a Benadryl andmy guess is he is going to wake up pretty cranky when he sees we lost a fifth of our monthly income over a single, freakin’ article, and I would very much like to stop taking the bus and bumming rides from my classmates before I graduate. Help keep the Wise Wolf howling.

Unfortunately, the Wolf’s commitment to the truth will ensure he’ll be back with something that will probably make thirty more people cancel their paid subscription. We cannot stop that from happening but we can make sure I don’t end up having to become an Only Fans model just to afford a used car.

Thanks for reading.

— Lily

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Note from The Wise Wolf: Since Lily published this, I have been seeing a lot of comments in our feed from people asking to read the article that cost us 30 paid subs - so here it is for your ‘enjoyment’.

(No one enjoys anything I write lately so I put that in ‘parentheses’ for added, ‘comedic effect’.)

The Wise Wolf

A wise man once said, 'Don't argue with a stupid person because they will just drag you down to their level and beat you with experience.'

By 🐺The Wise Wolf

I am not flying to see my family for Easter because the federal government decided that paying the people who check bags for explosives is optional and I have a strong personal preference for not being ‘explo-dead’ by whatever ‘Iranian terrorist group’ the government has decided to blame nuclear WW3 on.

That is a real sentence about a real thing happening right now in the United States of America. The people standing between you and a bomb on your flight to Denver are lining up at donation centers between shifts because the federal government has decided they don’t deserve a paycheck. They have missed three paychecks, and they have spent roughly half of this fiscal year working for what amounts to a firm handshake and a promise that someone in Congress is thinking about maybe possibly considering paying them eventually. Some of them get up at 3:30 in the morning, put on the uniform, stand in front of an X-ray machine for eight hours scanning your carry-on for things that explode, go home, and try to figure out which bills they can skip this month so their kids can eat something that isn’t creative interpretations of ramen.

Three hundred of them have quit. Sick callouts are running at five times the normal rate, which means the line between “functioning airport security” and “honor system” is getting thinner by the day. The head of the TSA union, Everett Kelley, said something last week that deserves to be printed on the boarding pass of every member of Congress: “Do not get on a plane that a TSA officer screened for free and fly home for Easter dinner.” That is not a union talking point. That is a man who has completely run out of polite ways to say that his people are donating bodily fluids to keep the lights on while protecting your family from getting blown out of the sky at 35,000 feet.

Meanwhile, ICE agents are not only getting paid, they are being recruited with the enthusiasm normally reserved for Division I quarterbacks, except instead of throwing footballs they will be throwing families into detention vans. The government is offering new ICE recruits a $50,000 signing bonus, broken into $10,000 annual chunks, because apparently even government bribery comes with a layaway plan now. Congress handed ICE $76.5 billion through the One Big Beautiful Bill Act, which is roughly ten times the agency’s normal annual budget and also the most Orwellian name for a piece of legislation since the Patriot Act. Thirty billion of that is specifically for hiring. They have received 220,000 applications.

A deportation officer starts between $51,000 and $84,000 before overtime and bonuses, which is nearly double what a TSA officer makes, assuming the TSA officer is making anything at all, which they are not. The oversight structure for this rapidly assembled paramilitary hiring spree is, as far as anyone can tell, roughly equivalent to a fantasy football league.

The government, demonstrating the kind of problem-solving instincts that make you wonder how we ever landed on the moon, decided to deploy ICE agents to airports during the shutdown to fill in for the TSA officers they refuse to pay. The TSA union pointed out, with admirable restraint, that ICE agents have not been trained to screen passengers or operate security equipment. They are not qualified to do the job. Congress sent them anyway, because nothing says “national security” like replacing the bomb-detection specialists with people whose primary field experience involves showing up at a meatpacking plant at 5 AM to arrest people who have been doing jobs that no American has applied for since 1987. (If you are flying anywhere in the next two weeks, by the way, the person operating the body scanner may have received their total aviation security training from a pamphlet and a firm handshake.) Kelley compared this to “giving a person dying of pneumonia a teaspoon of cough syrup,” which is generous. It is more like handing a drowning man a brochure about swimming lessons, billing him for it, and then arresting the lifeguard for being Mexican.

Either the people running this country are the dumbest collection of human beings ever assembled in a room with a gavel, or they are doing this on purpose.

And I have spent enough time around people with money and power to tell you that they are not dumb. They went to the best schools. They have teams of lawyers. They can read a spreadsheet. They know exactly what happens when you defund airport security and pour ten times the normal budget into a deportation force that answers to one political project and one political project only.

Real terrorists do not wade across the Rio Grande with a bindle stick. That is not how it works, and that has never been how it works. The 9/11 hijackers entered the country legally, with visas, through airports, wearing normal clothes, and smiling at the gate agent. The people who stop that from happening again are intelligence analysts, TSA screeners, FBI counterterrorism units, and the entire unglamorous bureaucratic apparatus of homeland security that doesn’t make for good television or fit on a campaign hat. You know who is not a national security threat? A middle-aged couple from Oaxaca with three kids who work twelve-hour days for five bucks an hour pulling guts out of the trough chute at a slaughterhouse in rural Nebraska. They are not planning anything, they are not waiting for orders from a shadow network, and they are trying to not die. The slaughterhouse knows they’re there, the manager knows, the company knows, everyone has always known. Nobody cares until it becomes politically useful to pretend to be horrified.

If you wanted to dismantle a functioning democracy (and I mean really dismantle it, not just yell about it on a podcast while selling vitamin supplements), you would do it exactly like this.

You would defund the agencies that protect everyone. You would flood money into the agencies that answer to one man. You would let the courts back up, let the infrastructure rot, let the professional civil servants quit or starve, and you would replace them with 220,000 fresh applicants who showed up because someone put a recruitment ad on Spotify promising fifty grand.

Spotify, a company whose primary contribution to civilization is letting you listen to Rihanna in the shower, pulled the recruitment ads after backlash. A Swedish music streaming company has more institutional shame about this situation than the United States Congress.

And when the whole thing finally buckles (and it will buckle, because you cannot run a country on vibes and deportation quotas), the people who engineered it will not be standing in the rubble with you. They will be in the bunkers your tax dollars built, behind the doors your tax dollars reinforced, eating the food your tax dollars stockpiled. They will be waiting patiently for the courts that would have convicted them for what they did to those kids on that island to stop existing, because courts require a functioning government, and there won’t be one anymore. That is not a side effect of incompetence, that is the entire business model.

The ICE agents with the fifty-thousand-dollar signing bonuses and the six weeks of training won’t be deporting anyone by then. They will be the enforcement arm of whatever comes next. Knights of a new aristocracy, which (and here is the part where I’d laugh if it weren’t so perfectly, geometrically evil) your great-grandparents bled into the dirt at Normandy and Iwo Jima specifically so you would never have to live under.

They had several words for governments that replace professional institutions with a loyal private army, and none of them are “democracy,” and most of them end with flags that only have one color on them.

I want to ask a serious question, and I would genuinely like someone in Washington to answer it, although I know they won’t because the answer is the kind of thing that looks very bad when you say it out loud in a room with cameras. What is ICE?

Not what does the acronym stand for. I know what the acronym stands for. Immigration and Customs Enforcement. But what is it, functionally, in practice, right now, today? Because this is an agency that was created in 2003 as part of the post-9/11 reorganization of the federal government, and in the twenty-three years since, it has evolved into something that no longer resembles the thing it was sold to the American public as. It was supposed to investigate cross-border crime, human trafficking, drug smuggling, and customs fraud. Those are real jobs that require real expertise and serve a real public interest. But that is not what ICE is doing at airports right now. It is not what ICE was doing when it was running recruitment ads on Spotify. It is not what ICE is doing when it sends agents to a church shelter in Chicago at 6 AM to arrest a grandmother from Honduras who has been living in the same apartment for eleven years and whose biggest crime is making tamales for the neighbors at Christmas.

So what is it? Is it an immigration agency? It doesn’t process immigration paperwork, that’s USCIS. Is it a law enforcement agency? It doesn’t investigate crimes the way the FBI does, and its agents are being deployed to airports where they have no relevant training, which is not something you do with a serious law enforcement body. Is it a border security agency? That’s CBP, which is a completely different organization with completely different jurisdiction. Is it a counterterrorism agency? It has never stopped a terrorist attack. Is it a TSA replacement? The TSA union says no, loudly, repeatedly, and with the kind of exasperation that suggests they have been saying it so many times that they are considering having it printed on t-shirts.

What ICE actually is, right now, in March of 2026, is a federally funded, rapidly expanding enforcement apparatus with ten times its normal budget, minimal oversight, a quarter-million applicants, a $50,000 signing bonus, and a mandate that begins and ends with the political priorities of one man. It does not answer to a coherent institutional mission. It does not have a fixed operational scope. It goes where it is told to go, it does what it is told to do, and it is being scaled up faster than any domestic federal force in modern American history.

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There is a historical parallel for this, and it is not a comfortable one, and I am not going to be cute about it. In the early 1930s, the German government built a large, loosely organized, rapidly recruited enforcement body that operated outside traditional law enforcement structures, answered directly to party leadership rather than institutional chains of command, was used interchangeably for crowd control, political intimidation, and whatever else needed doing on a given Tuesday, and was funded lavishly while the actual civil service starved. They were called the Sturmabteilung. The SA. The brownshirts. And before anyone fires up the “you can’t compare everything to Nazis” defense, I want to point out that I am not comparing the individual ICE agents to Nazis. I am comparing the structural blueprint to the structural blueprint, because the structural blueprint is identical, and pretending it isn’t because the uniforms are a different color is exactly how it worked the first time.

That is the math, and it is not complicated. Pay the people who find the bombs, or pay the people who are loyal to the men who are terrified of what those bombs are protecting you long enough to find out about.

The next flight out of Logan, or JFK, or O’Hare was screened by someone who hasn’t been paid in six weeks. And somewhere in Washington right now, a congressman who just voted to hand ICE ten times its budget is booking a first-class seat home for Easter recess on an airplane that a plasma-selling, bill-skipping, ramen-inventing TSA agent screened this morning for absolutely free.

Have a good flight, Congressman, and thank you for not paying the person who kept it from exploding.

Do you enjoy The Wise Wolf? The Wise Wolf enjoys writing, but The Wise Wolf has also been informed by several credible sources (his bank account, his electric company, and the look on his dog’s face when dinner is late) that enjoyment does not pay bills. This is my full-time job, I do not have a trust fund or a $50,000 signing bonus from the Department of Homeland Security, and nobody is running recruitment ads for me on Spotify. If you think independent journalism matters more than whatever Congress is funding right now (and the bar for that is so low it is underground), upgrade to a paid subscription today. Help keep the Wise Wolf howling.

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The Wise Wolf

A wise man once said, 'Don't argue with a stupid person because they will just drag you down to their level and beat you with experience.'

By 🐺The Wise Wolf

I swear I am not making this up…

In May 2024, a man named Jiang Xueqin stood in front of a classroom in Beijing and predicted that Donald Trump would win the election, that America would attack Iran, and that America would lose. This is the kind of prediction that, if you made it at a dinner party, would cause your spouse to start a quiet conversation with the hostess about whether you had been sleeping enough. But the bombs started falling. And suddenly a hundred thousand people subscribed to this man’s channel in three days, and Newsweek called him “China’s Nostradamus,” and Tucker Carlson gave him an hour of airtime, and three million Americans watched and said, “Finally, a man with answers.”

Three million Americans did not Google him first.

I want to stress that I am not making any of this up.

Jiang’s predictive methodology is called “psychohistory,” which is a word Isaac Asimov invented in 1942 for a science fiction novel about a galactic empire collapsing. It is not a real science. It is not even a fake science. It is a FICTIONAL science, from a NOVEL, which Asimov MADE UP, because he was a FICTION WRITER, and that is the kind of thing FICTION WRITERS DO. Jiang named his approach after the source material, which suggests either (a) he is not trying very hard to disguise the origin, or (b) he genuinely believes a method of predicting global warfare can be sourced from the same shelf as Dune and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, which, now that I think about it, would explain a lot about the last few years of American foreign policy.

He calls himself Professor Jiang. His Harvard connection is a listing at an education reform think tank, which is to a Harvard professorship what finding a quarter in the parking lot is to owning the Olive Garden. His Yale degree is real. Class of 1999. English literature. He is qualified to have strong opinions about Edith Wharton. He is not qualified to tell three million people how nuclear war works, but three million people did not ask for his transcript, because this is America, and in America we have a proud tradition of getting our geopolitical analysis from whoever has the most confident voice and the least amount of blinking.

But here is where it gets weird. And by “weird” I mean “the kind of weird where you start checking whether your homeowner’s insurance covers the apocalypse.”

The Spy Who Went Back for Seconds

In June 2002, Chinese secret police arrested Jiang while he was filming a workers’ protest undercover for PBS. PBS receives partial U.S. government funding, which is the kind of detail that matters when a government is deciding whether you are a journalist or a spy. I am going to go out on a limb here and suggest that when the Chinese counterintelligence apparatus looks at a Yale graduate working for a U.S.-funded media outlet who is secretly filming politically sensitive material, they do not conclude he is there for the egg rolls.

They deported him.

Jiang himself disclosed this in a 2017 CNN op-ed, which Newsweek’s glowing profile of him did not find room to mention. Perhaps the magazine had a very strict word count that week. Perhaps they were distracted by a pressing story about a dog who can skateboard. I do not know. I am just a humor columnist.

Now, here is the thing about being deported from China as a suspected American intelligence operative. The normal career path after that is: you go home, you become a consultant, you maybe start a podcast, and you never, ever set foot near anything the Chinese government considers sensitive, which is pretty much everything including the thermostat. That is what happens. You take up gardening. You learn to make sourdough. You do NOT go back.

Jiang went back.

He went back and became assistant principal at the High School Affiliated with Peking University, and then at Tsinghua University. I need you to understand what these schools are, because this is the part where, if this were a movie, the ominous music would start playing and the audience would begin throwing popcorn at the screen yelling “DON’T GO IN THERE.” These are the international programs that educate the children of the Chinese political and technical elite. The offspring of the people who actually run the most populous nation on earth. A man China deported as a probable American spy walked back in and was handed authority over the education of the ruling class’s children.

Somebody made a phone call. I do not know who picked up. I know that the number of people on this planet who have the authority to make that arrangement could comfortably carpool in a Honda Accord.

Then there is his internet presence, which is the kind of thing that would make a counterintelligence analyst do a spit-take with their government-issue coffee. His YouTube account says Canada. His videos are filmed in Beijing. His main Twitter account lists Beijing, but X’s geolocation data places it in Hong Kong. His second Twitter account also says Beijing. X says that one is in Australia. That is three accounts broadcasting from three different countries simultaneously, which in the intelligence community is called a “distributed influence operation,” and in the regular-person community is called “something that should have made at least one of those three million viewers say ‘huh, that’s odd.’”

Some Assembly Required

Here is why three million people are watching Jiang and feeling like they finally get it. They DO get it. Partly. The instinct is correct. Something is profoundly wrong. These are people who watched wars start that nobody voted for. They watched trillions of dollars leave the U.S. Treasury and arrive at no destination any auditor can locate, which, if you or I did that with $47 from a lemonade stand, would result in prison time and a very uncomfortable conversation with the IRS. They watched powerful people who swore under oath they had never met each other turn out to have been sharing hotel suites for decades. The sense that the world is being run by people whose names are not on any ballot is not paranoia. It is pattern recognition. It is the correct conclusion drawn from observable evidence by people who are paying attention.

The trap is not in the noticing. The trap is in who shows up to explain it.

This is an old game, and it works like this. You find a population that is correctly alarmed. You build a figure who validates their alarm. You give that figure some real predictions so the credibility sticks, the way you put a real worm on a fishhook, because artificial worms do not work as well, which is something I learned on a fishing trip with my father that also taught me never to go on a fishing trip with my father. Then you let the figure describe the problem in terms so vast and so cosmic that nobody can turn any of it into a specific action against a specific person at a specific address. The audience feels informed. Feels seen. Shares the clip. Goes to bed. Does not organize. Does not name the names that would make actual powerful people actually uncomfortable. The pressure releases through the entertainment, the way steam releases through a valve, and the machine keeps running, and you wake up the next morning and watch another clip, and the cycle continues until the sun burns out or you run out of WiFi, whichever comes first.

QAnon ran this exact play on millions of people. Every cryptic insider who materialized at exactly the right moment with exactly the right forbidden information ran this play. It works every single time, and it works best on the people who are absolutely positive they are too smart for it, which is not a bug in the system. It is the FEATURE. Professor Jiang is the most recent model of a machine that has been in production for decades, and the new model has a science-fiction methodology and a Harvard connection that is not actually a Harvard connection and three countries’ worth of IP addresses, and it costs three million people zero dollars to watch and zero effort to share, and that pricing model is not an accident.

A prophet trying to change the outcome sounds an alarm. A man whose job is to make you accept the outcome reads an announcement. Jiang has told three million people that the outcome is sealed. He has framed three questions (does the air campaign become a ground invasion, does someone use a nuclear weapon, does Al-Aqsa Mosque get destroyed) and presented them not as warnings but as milestones. He is not trying to stop what is coming. He is narrating it. He is the play-by-play announcer for the apocalypse, and his biography does not survive five minutes on Google, and his online presence is a geographic impossibility, and he is being amplified by systems that do not amplify independent creators, and all of this is happening in real time while the bombs are falling.

That is not a prophet. That is a public address system. And public address systems do not install themselves.

The Secret Brotherhood That Carved Its Name Into a Building and Then Said “What Building”

To understand what Jiang is actually doing, you have to understand who built the public address system. And for that, you have to look at something most people think they already understand, which means they do not understand it at all. This is true of many things, including the tax code, the rules of cricket, and the internal politics of your local homeowner’s association, which is run by a woman named Deborah who will destroy you.

People picture Freemasonry as elderly gentlemen in lodge halls doing charitable work and learning unusual handshakes. The fish fry and the funny apron. This is real. I have attended fish fries. They are fine. But this is the ground floor of a building with a lot of floors, and the people on the upper floors are not making coleslaw.

The Hongmen, the Chinese secret brotherhood that fathered the modern Triads, called themselves Chinese Freemasons. Not metaphorically. Not the way your uncle calls his poker group “the council.” Operationally. They used the square and compasses. They ran blood oaths, trouser-leg initiations, lodge hierarchies with Worshipful Masters and Wardens. Their own historians document the recognition signals as borrowed from direct Western Masonic contact. Sun Yat-sen, the man who founded the Republic of China, was senior Hongmen. So was Chiang Kai-shek. The Hung League built their Sydney headquarters in 1911 and carved the words “Chinese Masonic Society” into the front of the building, which is documented, and which I mention because Western Masonic bodies officially deny this connection.

They deny it the way a man denies knowing the building with his name on the front. “Never heard of it. What building. That is a different Steve Johnson who happens to have the same name and face and dental records.”

The architecture of hidden loyalty, blood ritual, layered hierarchy, and allegiance to something above the nation you appear to serve is not a Western phenomenon or an Eastern phenomenon. It is a HUMAN technology. It shows up everywhere, in every century, across every civilization, the way the wheel shows up everywhere, because it works. And at the very top of these structures, across countries and across centuries, the theology converges on a point that the highest-ranking members have been strangely willing to put in writing, which is not the kind of thing you normally expect from a SECRET society but, hey, these are complicated organizations and I am sure they have their reasons.

Albert Pike was the Sovereign Grand Commander of the Scottish Rite’s Southern Jurisdiction and the most influential Masonic author of the nineteenth century. He wrote a book called Morals and Dogma, which the Freemasons hand to their fourteenth-degree initiates. It is still in print. It has four stars on Amazon and over two hundred reviews. This is a real book you can purchase with real money from a real website that will also sell you a combination back-scratcher and bottle-opener if you spend another $7.99 to qualify for free shipping.

On page 321, Pike wrote, and again I am not making this up: “LUCIFER, the Light-bearer! Strange and mysterious name to give to the Spirit of Darkness! Lucifer, the Son of the Morning! Is it he who bears the Light... Doubt it not!”

This is in the book. Page 321. They hand it to initiates. You can have it by Thursday if you have Prime.

A separate document records Pike declaring Lucifer to be God and stating that the Masonic religion must be maintained in the purity of Luciferian doctrine by all initiates of the high degrees. Masons dispute the authenticity of that second passage. They do not dispute the first. The first one is on page 321 of the book they hand out, which is available for purchase right now from the same company that sells you paper towels in bulk and knows what you watched on television last Thursday.

Two Down, One to Go, and I Really Wish I Were Making This Up, but I Am Not

There is a document attributed to Pike, allegedly sent to Italian revolutionary Giuseppe Mazzini in August 1871, describing three world wars needed to bring about a new global order under that same Luciferian doctrine from page 321.

Here are the problems with the document, and I am giving them to you first, because unlike certain three-country professors with fictional methodologies, I believe in telling you where the holes are BEFORE I show you the thing with holes in it. The British Museum has no record of the letter. The chain of evidence runs through a Chilean Cardinal in 1925, then through Royal Canadian Navy intelligence officer William Guy Carr, who later admitted he never personally saw the original. Masons say it is a forgery. It may be. Handle it accordingly. Do not build a religion on it. Do not build a bomb shelter on it. Just read what it says and then look out the window.

The document says the first war would destroy the Russian Czar and replace the empire with atheistic Communism.

The document says the second would pit fascism against political Zionism, ending with Israel as a sovereign state and Communism as a global counterweight to Western Christendom.

The document says the third would be fomented between political Zionism and Islam, manipulating both into destroying each other, dragging the rest of the world into total exhaustion, collapsing institutional Christianity along with everything else, and into the resulting vacuum presenting the Luciferian doctrine to a population that has been emptied out and has nowhere left to turn.

The first happened. World War I destroyed the Czar. The Bolsheviks installed Communism.

The second happened. World War II played out along exactly those lines. Israel was established in 1948. The Cold War made Communism the global counterbalance.

Whether Pike wrote that document or someone else wrote it and stapled his name to it the way a college roommate staples your name to a pizza order you did not agree to, somebody has been following these blueprints for over a century with a level of precision that would make a Swiss watchmaker weep with professional envy. Two out of three have come to pass with mechanical specificity. The third is on the nightly news RIGHT NOW. And Professor Jiang, the three-country man with the fictional methodology and the impossible resume, is on Tucker Carlson’s show telling three million people that what the document describes as step three is underway and the ending is already decided.

The word “coincidence” is not rated for this much weight. It is like trying to park a 747 on a card table. The table has opinions about this.

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The Part Where It Gets Even Weirder, Which I Did Not Think Was Possible, but Here We Are

In the occult traditions that run through high-degree Freemasonry, there is a doctrine called “lesser magic.” The doctrine says the practitioner must announce intent before acting. If the target hears the announcement and does nothing, the silence constitutes consent. The inaction is the agreement. The terms of the working are satisfied. This is an actual thing that actual people actually believe, and these actual people are not your neighbor Gary who thinks his lawn gnomes are watching him. These are people who run institutions.

This is why the symbolism is always visible and never hidden. On the dollar in your wallet. In the geometry of government buildings. In the logos of institutions that have no obvious reason to share a visual language with each other unless they all hired the same very specific graphic designer, which they did not. The announcement IS the ritual. It is not a failure of operational security. It IS the operation.

Jiang is performing lesser magic on national television. He is standing in front of three million people and announcing that the script is running, the war is proceeding to its designed conclusion, and the global order is collapsing according to plan. Every viewer who hears it, nods thoughtfully, and returns to their regular evening of streaming television and wondering whether they should buy a Peloton has, under the rules of the system being operated, signed the consent form. They were told. They did not object. That is all the doctrine requires.

This is the worst Terms of Service agreement in history, and unlike the one for iTunes, this one actually matters.

God is Still Watching Everything They Do

I have spent nearly two decades in the Hebrew and Aramaic texts underneath these networks, which is a sentence I never expected to write in a humor column, but these are unusual times and the material demands it. The Canaanite death religion is not mythology that scholars invented to explain confusing Old Testament passages over faculty cocktails. Baal worship. Moloch worship. The sacrifice of children to gods whose names we have in the archaeological record. These are not metaphors. The prophets of Israel named these practices in their own people because they watched them happen in real time and wrote down what they saw. 2 Kings 23:10. Jeremiah 32:35. Psalm 106:37-38. The practices were documented and real, and the theological lineage from ancient Canaan through Pike’s published doctrine to whatever is being broadcast from Jiang’s three simultaneous countries is traceable in the symbols, the rites, and the words the highest-ranking members keep putting in print and selling on Amazon WITH FREE SHIPPING.

The people executing this plan are brilliant. I want to be very clear about that. They are brilliant the way a chess grandmaster is brilliant. Precise, disciplined, patient across centuries, capable of planning moves that will not pay off until long after the planner is dead and has been replaced by another planner who was recruited at age nineteen and told the plan and given a funny apron and a copy of page 321. This is a genuinely impressive operation. It has been running for over 150 years and it has hit its marks with terrifying accuracy.

It also has a problem.

The problem is the same problem faced by every villain in every movie who builds the doomsday weapon and forgets to read the part of the manual that says “Warning: Do Not Point This at Yourself.” If the devil is real, God is real. That is not a bumper sticker you put on your minivan between the one about your honor student and the one about your other kid who beat up your honor student. It is a logical premise. If one side of the ledger exists, the other side exists. And it is a premise the architects of this plan appear not to have fully considered, which is a remarkable oversight for people who have otherwise planned everything down to the century and the country code.

Every secret society in recorded history that has decided it could engineer the endgame of the human race eventually discovered, at the worst possible moment, that it was not actually running the simulation. The wrath being invited by this 150-year project does not check your degree status. It does not respect centuries of institutional momentum. It does not negotiate. It does not care about your blood oaths or your trouser-leg initiations or your four-star Amazon reviews. It is not impressed.

They have not read to the end of the Book. They really, really should.

The Part Where I Tell You What to Do, Which Is My Least Favorite Part, Because I Am a Humor Columnist and My Usual Advice Is “Go Back to Bed”

Do not let Jiang convince you the outcome is written. It is being sold. The people selling it need you passive. They need you impressed by a man whose biography is a construction project with no building permits. They need you certain enough of inevitability that you do nothing, which is the only thing they actually need, because doing nothing is the consent, and the consent is the ritual, and the ritual is the whole point.

The one question they cannot survive enough people answering is what you do now that you know you are watching lesser magic performed live on a screen you can turn off.

Turn it off.

Then answer it.

Corporate sponsors have not been falling over themselves to fund investigations that connect a nineteenth-century Lucifer handbook to a man broadcasting from three countries at once on Tucker Carlson’s show, which I think we can all agree is a niche that Procter & Gamble is not racing to fill. This publication runs on paid subscriptions and an amount of stubbornness that probably qualifies as a clinical diagnosis. My researcher Lily spent three weeks deep-diving Freemasonry and the Hongmen from a city bus, which is both a genuine act of journalistic dedication and a commuting situation that no human being should have to endure while reading about blood oaths. A paid subscription keeps this operation alive, gets her closer to a car with seats and a roof and all the normal car features, and gets me closer to the newsvan I have been describing to everyone I know until they physically leave the room, which they do, because I will not stop talking about the newsvan. Help keep the Wise Wolf howling.

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The Wise Wolf

A wise man once said, 'Don't argue with a stupid person because they will just drag you down to their level and beat you with experience.'

By 🐺The Wise Wolf

I want you to go get your bread. The loaf on your counter, the one in your fridge, whatever you have. Flip it over and read the ingredients out loud.

I’ll wait.

Enriched wheat flour, high fructose corn syrup, soybean oil, mono and diglycerides, calcium propionate, and then, somewhere toward the bottom, azodicarbonamide. Which is a dough conditioner, totally normal, widely used, also the primary ingredient in yoga mats and shoe rubber. That last part is true. I did not make it up. The same chemical that gives your foam mat that satisfying sponginess is in your sandwich bread, and the FDA is fine with it, and nobody mentions it, and we all just keep eating the bread.

This is where I tell you that one in three American adults is currently pre-diabetic, that type 2 diabetes rates have gone up 700% since 1960, that celiac disease has increased 400% since the 1950s. And this is where you nod and think yes, modern diet, sedentary lifestyle, personal responsibility, I’ve heard the speech. But he…

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