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I Don't Care How Many 'Secret' Documents Are at Mar-a-Lago.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t like Trump. In fact, I can’t stand him. He’s a whiner and a shitass, and I will never forgive Hillary Clinton for running the worst, Presidential campaign of all time which let this playground bully sit behind the Resolute desk for four years.

That being said, if the government wants to kick the shitass in his ass, at he very least they should do it because of something he did that was really either illegal or an abuse of authority, or both. But to string him up for swiping some so-called secret documents and loading them on Air Force One for the last trip he made at taxpayer expense is, as far as I’m concerned, what Grandpa would call ‘erois geforven gelt’ (read: a waste of money.)

As far as I’m concerned, all this talk about government ‘secrets’ or ‘classified’ files is nothing more than what my mother-in-law would call ‘hai cock und a bubba,’ (read: bullshit.) And the reason it’s hai cock is because all these so-called ‘classified’ documents are just some pieces of paper which some G-15 clerk stamped ‘Top Secret’ because he stamps everything ‘Top Secret.’ Good for him.

I had a good friend, now deceased, who was a Special Agent for the FBI. He was considered one of the agency’s most knowledgeable people about homicide, and he frequently consulted with law enforcement both in the United States and abroad who needed help solving a complicated murder case.

The day after he died, his son-in-law (married to his daughter) attended the funeral and then went back to his home which was located in a suburb of D.C. When he arrived at the house, his mother-in-law asked him to go down into the basement where her late husband kept an office and just look around to see what should be kept and what might be thrown out or given away.

So, the son-in-law walks downstairs and discovers in his late father-in-law’s office, about 100 FBI case files, all stamped in big, red lettering – CONFIDENTIAL. NOT TO BE REMOVED WITHOUT PERMISSION AND MUST BE RETURNED.

What does son-in-law do? He picks up the phone, calls the FBI in D.C. and tells them about the files and says he’s willing to bring them back but he needs to know how to access the proper entrance to the Hoover Building.

The agent tells him to hold on for a minute, then comes back and says: “Throw the shit out. We don’t want it back.”

So much for the confidential FBI files, okay? But that’s the warm-up. Now I have a better story.

In the mid-80’s I was teaching at Columbia University when the Provost sent a note around asking that if anyone had a ‘top secret’ security clearance they should come to his office right away.

In fact, I had a ‘top secret’ clearance because as a college student I worked part-time for the National Bureau of Economic Research before NBER moved to Cambridge, and since the agency had a CIA research contract, everyone had to be cleared.

The Provost informed me (after expressing shock the one of the biggest, loudmouth radicals on the campus had a security clearance) that the University could not accept payments for any classified research without having someone on staff who would act as the security clearance officer and - voila – I was now it!

The classified research project that could not continue to be funded was being run by some professor in Physics who was building some piece of machinery that would be mounted on the outside of a military satellite to measure something in space. To conduct his experiments, the researcher had to recreate the outer space environment in his physics lab, which consisted of some plastic sheeting and a machine which pulled all the oxygen out of this space.

There wasn’t a single member of the Physics Department who didn’t at some point or another, wander through this so-called outer-space ‘environment’ in the physics lab, even though the research being conducted in this facockta (read: fuck*ed up) space was supposed to be totally and completely secret and only viewed by individuals who had the necessary security clearance.

Last story. I once spent a day at the government weapons lab at Oak Ridge, and I noticed that on one street there were five or six fast-food franchises (McDonald’s, Burger King, Wendy’s, etc.) lined up one right next to another.

I asked someone why all these franchises were sharing the same space and here’s what he said: “We don’t have anyone in Oak Ridge except the people who are allowed to work here. So, the franchises use our population to test new menu items because they know the same people will be eating at those same locations every day.’

Want to know what all those classified government documents contain? Very important, indeed critical information about whether the fried chicken should come with or without katsup and mayonnaise.

We built an entire weapons laboratory in the desert at Los Alamos and couldn’t keep the atom bomb research secret for more than a couple of years. But I’ll bet that Burger King still doesn’t know what kind of sauce is being tested on the Big Mac.

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