“Afterword: exactly how do certain agencies/entities/powers ‘mirror’ a website–a closed, contained IP–yet also are able to fully mask their presence, even while the best technocratic endeavours of all of the five eyed hydras in the world are eyesore?”
I mean, one Hydra is a dificult adversary–dozens are probably even more difficult to behead. I mean-like, I lost 200 readers, and then they all reappeared again!! The miracles of modern technology!
Now try that in Greek–the romantic period. A bit harder to decode, I am pretty sure; because there are no solid linguists on YOUR team.
SO why would a guy waste the time even trying? Maybe, just maybe, there is the one kind of exploit that is still in the wild that hasn’t yet hit the papers.
Not that I care–I don’t. I am just a little golden fish whose journey was interupted many many years ago (NO, not 3 years and four months as of March of this year–in fact, just follow the links kiddies!
I have been at this for a decade or more, trying to avoid the sordid business of being violated in every way by those who break the law, in order to create the appearance of enforcing it; enfarcing it.
Since the first manila envelope [98′] to the last–and I don’t even own a filing cabinet for all of that crap! What is a person to do with all of that data?
I just chuck most of it in the river, and then, walk away, although there are some who work downtown–some special agents indeed, who might remember a certain hINdian that came to town, and tried to lead the team–she left manilla folders on her desk, or something–right? And that didn’t work out to well for her.
Do you remember her? Do you remember the envelope on the desk, or the allegations of misconduct that felled her bid?
Yeah–that was one ice crystal amongst many more that make the local scene complicit in holding the tip of the ICEberg to account for the behemoth that lurks under the sea.
Just sayin’–did you get that Mike? Oh-and yeah, she was kind of a hottie indeed.
Anyways-and then, I find a nice spot in the shade, to rest, and to observe whoever it was that came calling at my port. My port/s, sad to say, built upon rocky shoals, and fraught with traps that could kill you!
And whoever that moron at the Millenium was advertising too–remember? “Election 2016″? It was so obvious that even the door guy was like a sign post that screamed Danger! Danger ahead!”
I am still lllaughing about that, Sasquatch. You-not him, I mean;-)
And then–wow, look here at the real case you could have been on, instead of your size 13 fatboy loafers loafing outside my window in 2008–a real, actual bonerfide case of perverse voyeurism that as of yet has not been fully contested in any courtroom, anywhere! Probably, its the loafers–brown, and ordinary, that entrap you every time.
How crazy must I be? I have lost touch with all of the safehouses and sanity drop spots that I ever had access to! My mental palette has lost the appetite for more of your fare-but I have you, in the words of Louis L’Amour “dead to rights.” And in my sights–metaphorically of course.
And that, scattered all over ‘the land I love’.