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A phone chat between Marjorie Taylor Greene and Steve Bannon

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[This is a transcript of a conversation between the controversial Republican congresswoman and the indicted Trump supporter. I obtained it through a friend with a high position in the American security community, who requested anonymity because h/she was not authorized to disclose the information to me. This conversation was recorded on Thursday night, beginning at 7:54 p.m. California time. Neither Taylor Green nor Bannon knew they were being taped.)

Majorie Taylor Green (MTG): Steve? Is that you? Can you hear me?

Steve Bannon (SB): I’m here, Margie. I can hear you just fine.

MTG: Oh, I’m so glad. I need someone to talk to.

SB: I can only imagine!

MTG: I’ve been stripped of my committees!

SB: I know. I’m watching C-SPAN.

MTG: What the hell happened to the Insurrection? You told us it would all happen on Jan. 6 and the next day we’d be in control of the government.

SB: Yeah. I know. I’m as disappointed as you are.

MTG: That’s all you have to say? Q put ourselves out on a limb. I expected to be meeting with President Trump in the Oval Office that night. I don’t need this shit.

SB: Well, welcome to the Big Leagues, Margie.

MTG: So where do we go from here?

SB: “We”?

MTG: You know damn well what I mean. Q.

SB: I don’t know what to tell you, Margie. I mean…

MTG: We have been working for this moment for four years. The moment to destroy Democrats, to kill them if necessary. But it’s been a disaster for the last three months. We lost the Senate. The Democrat Party held the House. We lost the damn presidency. And now I’ve been removed from all my House committees!

SB: Well, I know. I feel for you, Margie. Nobody ever told you it would be easy.

MTG: But Steve, tell me the truth: is our thing still happening? Because it seems pretty depressing.

SB: Margie, I promise you, it’s happening.

MTG: Really?

SB: You have my word. This was all in the plan.

MTG: You mean–?

SB: The setbacks. We foresaw these bumps in the road. But I guarantee you, we’re still on track to victory.

MTG: Meaning–?

SB: A white, straight, Christian AmeriQa, governed by Jesus Christ, with zero tolerance for our enemies, foreign or domestic.

MTG: Oh Steve, your words make me dizzy with delight!

SB: A country where Franklin Graham, not that whore AOC, has a seat at the top. A country that doesn’t cater to queers. A country where we get rid of Jews, except for our friends in the Hasidic community. A country where Muslims are deported, where liberals are thrown in jail, where we own and run the media. A country where you could be President of the United States of America! Or should I say, the Qunited States of AmeriQa.

MTG: Oh, Steve, stop joshing.

SB: I’m not!

MTG: You don’t mean that I could be president, do you? I mean, little old me, who was doing manicures just a few years ago?

SB: Yes! Absolutely! Don’t forget, Hitler was a housepainter when he was your age. You’re exactly what we’re looking for, Margie. Someone so ordinary, so ridiculous, so unlikely, so incompetent, so breathtakingly banal, that no one would ever take her seriously. That’s what Adolf was in 1921. That’s what you are in 2021.

MTG: Me and Adolf Hitler? OMG. What a compliment.

SB: It’s true, Margie. Take yourself more seriously. You’re just starting this ride.

MTG: Steve, I will never forget you. No matter how high I soar, you will always be in my rear view mirror.

SB: Excellent, Margie. But you’ll have to excuse me now. I have a conference call with McCarthy and Trump.

MTG: Some day, I’ll be on that conference call. Hell, I’ll be leading it.

SB: I know you will. Take care, Margie. Heil Trump!


Trump out of the White House: how it might be

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After he left office, Trump ran into all sorts of problems. When the moving vans arrived at Mar-a-Lago with his and Melania’s White House stuff, they were pelted with eggs and bags of feces, as angry Palm Beachers let the Trumps know how they felt about them. The West Palm Beach City Council passed a resolution stating the official opposition of the city to having disgraced Trumps live in their midst. Trump and Melania then took off on what his spokeman called “an extended vacation.” They were spotted in Moscow, Abu Dhabi and Zagreb. A local feature magazine reprinted a photo by papparazi showing both Trump and Melania having gained a lot of weight.

In Washington, D.C., New York, Bedminster, Stamford CT, Jersey City, Hollywood FL, Las Vegas and other U.S. cities, Trump hotels and golf clubs were picketed; some were forced to close, while others found themselves with civil lawsuits filed against them. Reports circulated that the Trumps were afraid to return to America. The Trump children, particularly the most recognizable among them (Ivanka, Donald, Jr. and Eric) were routinely confronted wherever they went. Donald, Jr. and his girlfriend, Kimberly Gilfoyle, had to leave the upscale Tasca NYC restaurant, where they were dining outdoors, after other customers screamed and spat at them. Ivanka and her husband, Jared Kushner, were asked to resign from their membership in the Temple of Israel synagogue, after 285 members signed a petition urging them to leave. The couple also had to stop shopping at their favorite stores near their Manhattan residence in Trump Tower after proprietors informed them they were no longer welcome. Eric Trump was no longer seen in public; a confidant, who requested anonymity, explained that he was taking anti-depressants and hardly went outdoors anymore.

And the lawsuits came rushing in. The Southern District of New York plunged ahead with its criminal charges of tax evasion and the payment of hush money. The New York State Attorney-General indicted Trump and six of his associates for various criminal violations. Twenty women filed civil charges against Trump for sexual harassment. The U.S. Justice Department, under Attorney-General Merrick Garland, announced it was investigating Trump and the Trump campaign in at least ten areas, including the unresolved charges against Trump stemming from the Mueller probe. The New York Times reported that Trump was having trouble finding reputable lawyers to defend him, and that his legal bills were already in excess of $12 million. When Rudy Giuliani died of a heart attack, Trump lost the only lawyer who remained devoted to him.

Trump is said by those close to him as being “depressed and almost suicidal.” Several sources revealed that, wherever he happens to be living, he has access to his favorite television station, Fox News, and to a range of newspapers. He is said to exchange hardly a word all day with Melania; the two dine separately and lead separate lives. The former president’s weight allegedly has ballooned to more than 325 pounds, as he stuffs himself on fatty junk food. Rumors that he was going to launch his own television network have quieted in recent weeks, as Trump apparently has lost interest, at least temporarily.

“He’s a sad, lonely, isolated and desperate man,” a source said. “He spends his days online, looking for proof that Hillary Clinton broke the law, that Obama really was born in Kenya, that Hunter Biden colluded with the Ukrainians, that he really did win the election in a landslide. Nobody dares to correct him. It’s a sad ending to a once-spectacular career.”


The Hunt For Trump

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“There he goes!”

“Where?”

We were in a sub-grouping of about 1,000 people, part of a huge group of hundreds of thousands that had come to Washington to hunt Trump down. People were fanning out all over the downtown area. Some headed over to Foggy Bottom, on rumors that Trump had a submarine waiting for him in the Potomac, to whisk him away someplace. Others went towards Dupont Circle and Embassy Row; there had been reports that a foreign embassy (Russia? Saudi Arabia? The Emirates?) would provide him asylum. The group I was part of was looking for him to the east, in the blocks toward Trump International Hotel. That’s when we heard the woman yell, “There he goes!”

We turned our heads in her direction. “Where?” “Are you sure?” “Which direction?” There was plenty of chaos in that fog of war.

“Of course I’m sure!” She was a small, thin woman with red hair and a Biden-Harris sweatshirt. She was pointing past the White House Visitor Center down Pennsylvania Avenue. “I know it was him! The orange hair! The fat ass! He was alone! And running!”

“Where did he go?” I shouted.

“He turned at 12th Street Northwest and disappeared around the corner.”

“He’s headed towards his hotel!” someone cried out. Like a flock of gulls, we pivoted as a unit and began running towards the hotel. When we got there, it was surrounded by uniformed troops carrying big weapons. There was no sign of Trump.

As night fell, I went back to my hotel. The quarry had eluded us—temporarily. The “Hunt For Trump,” as it became known in the media, had grown from a simple tweet—“Why don’t we march on Washington, find him, and have a trial?”–into a spontaneous phenomenon of tremendous power. Within three days, close to half-a-million of us had flown, driven, hitch-hiked and trained into Washington. Some stayed in expensive hotels; others set up tents in The Ellipse. I myself was lucky to have gotten a room in the Hampton Inn, only blocks from the White House, for the relatively cheap price of $85 a night. Restaurants and bars were closed everywhere, of course, thanks to the pandemic, but the bars were serving take-out. As the night was mild, a group of about twelve of us took our drinks and gathered around an outdoor fountain in front of the hotel.

“We have to find him,” said a big, beefy guy who wore a red and white Washington Nationals baseball cap backwards. He had a long pony tail.

“How do we even know he’s still here?” asked a Black guy I’d met earlier, by the name of Rodney.

“He has to be,” I said. “The entire city is closed off by the National Guard. The airports are on super-alert. He’s here. I can smell him.”

“Maybe he got away on that submarine,” said a woman who gave her name as Elise. “I mean, he could be halfway across the Atlantic by now.”

“It’s possible,” I countered. “But as long as there’s a possibility he’s trapped in D.C., we have to keep up the Hunt.”

Then a young guy with an iPhone interrupted. “Hey!” he shouted, looking at his little screen. “Somebody on Twitter is saying he was just spotted at the FBI Building!”

Everybody pulled out his own cell phone and began pecking in search orders.

“There’s nothing posted at the FBI website,” said an older man, improbably dressed in a suit and tie.

“Nothing on MSNBC,” said a sharp-featured lady.

“Wait!” It was a very young woman, with shimmering black hair. “I’m on TikTok. Somebody says he’s in the lobby of the FBI, surrounded by Proud Boys and Qanon people, making a last stand!”

That’s all it took. We raced off to the east, toward E Street, where the FBI headquarters is. Along the way, we saw tens of thousands of our fellow Hunters, all headed in the same direction. The air was electric. Something big was happening. We picked up the pace.

We could barely get within half-a-block of the FBI, so thronged were the streets. People held signs: LOCK HIM UP! TRUMP THE TRAITOR! JAIL THE ENTIRE TRUMP FAMILY! CRUZ AND HAWLEY TO GITMO! Suddenly there was a glow in the night: a fiery torch! Then another! And another! People were holding their torches aloft, like a scene from Frankenstein. The crowd pressed in closer to the FBI building; I was carried irresistibly along with the wave.

Helicopters were buzzing overhead. I heard voices over loudspeakers but they were crackly and muffled and I couldn’t understand what they were saying. Flashbulbs from phone cams and media cameras went off like strobe lights. The helicopters threw down bright, sharp spotlights. The scene was complete mayhem. The next thing I knew, people were screaming and yelling. Somebody was saying something about the Proud Boys. I heard a gunshot, then another. Then my nostrils pinched and I reeled and couldn’t breathe, as the tear gas settled down on our heads.

* * *

Well, we all know how it ended. The Virginia and Maryland National Guards, thank goodness, came to our rescue, assisted by D.C. Police and uniformed men and women from the various alphabet agencies of the Federal government who remained loyal to the Constitution. The Proud Boys, Q, and all the violent rightwing militias were rounded up, in fierce battles, defeated, and taken away in dark-colored buses and vans. Trump himself was arrested. I’ll never forget the scene: handcuffed, his usually carefully-coiffed hair in wild disarray, he was led down the steps by uniformed troops, their weapons drawn, and inserted into a tank. From there, he was taken to the D.C. Central Detention Facility, where he was kept under armed guard until his trial. He is now serving a prison sentence of 100 years for the crime of inciting an Insurrection against the United States of America. The Senators and Congressmen who objected to Biden’s election have all been expelled from Congress and have been charged with similar crimes; Hawley is serving a life term at the Federal Penitentiary at Leavenworth, Kansas. Ted Cruz committed suicide. Three of Trump’s children—Donald Jr., Eric and Ivanka—are in jail. President Biden just rejoined the Paris Accords. His approval rating stands at 72%. And in a survey of 500 historians, 492 of them ranked Trump the worst president ever. There remain bastions of dead-end Trumpers here and there, particularly in rural areas of the country, but they’re being eradicated. I like this quote from one woman, an Alabaman: “I voted for Trump twice. I was really angry when Biden won, and I believed that Democrats and liberals had stolen the election. But then my kids and my husband did an intervention on me, and now I can see I was hypnotized, or whatever. I can’t explain it. But I see clearly now. Trump really is a monster.”

Amen.


The Trial of Josh Hawley

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Wednesday, June 14, 2021

The floor of the United States Senate. Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer presiding. He speaks into the microphone to galleries packed with spectators and media.

Sen. Schumer: Good morning. The Senate is today assembled to hear evidence in the trial of Senator Joshua Hawley, of Missouri, on charges of Treason against the United States of America; of conspiring with Domestic Enemies of America to conduct an illegal coup d’état against this country; and of spreading False Information in order to undermine the laws of the United States. We will first hear evidence of Sen. Hawley’s crimes, as alleged in the indictment, from United States Senator, the Reverend Raphael Warnock, of Georgia. Senator Warnock.

Sen. Warnock: Thank you. Majority Leader Schumer. We are here today to hear evidence of Sen. Hawley’s crimes. Do I hear any objection to these proceedings going forward?

Sen. Mitch McConnell: Object.

Sen. Schumer: Objection being heard, the Senators will now vote on the motion. The clerk will read the motion.

Senate Clerk: All those in favor of this Trial going forward will vote Aye by electronic device. All those in favor of this Trial not going forward will vote Nay by electronic device.

(Several minutes pass as Senators vote)

Senate Clerk: The tally of electronic votes now having been completed, the final result is 60 votes in favor of the motion, 40 against.

Sen. Schumer: The Trial will proceed.

Sen. Cruz: I rise to object to the manner in which this vote was conducted, Mr. President.

Sen. Schumer: What is the nature of the Senator’s objection?

Sen. Cruz: I just don’t like it. Biden stole this election. It was rigged, and everyone in this room knows it.

Sen. Ossoff: I object.

Sen. Schumer: To what purpose does the senior Senator from Georgia object?

Sen. Ossoff: This is just more obstruction on the part of Republicans angry that their side lost a decisive election. I move that this Trial begin immediately.

Sen. Schumer: I so order this Trial to begin.

[Clamor and mayhem on the Floor. Republican Senators hoot and shout. “Fraud, fraud!”]

Sen. Schumer: [banging his gavel repeatedly] Order! Order! Senators will return to their desks and be silent! I will order the Senate Police to remove anyone who attempts to interfere with these orderly proceedings!

[The Senate calms down]

Sen. Warnock: The evidence, my fellow Senators, is overwhelming. Sen. Hawley is fully aware that there was no fraud in the recent election—fully aware that the Governors and Secretaries of State of Georgia, Michigan, Pennsylvania, Arizona and Wisconsin, many of whom are Republicans, have repeatedly certified the results of the election, namely the election of President Biden. The Courts have consistently rejected any interpretation to the contrary, with the United States Supreme Court unanimously rejecting Texas’s absurd motion to challenge the electoral results in four States. And yet, Sen. Hawley, in obedience to a rogue, defeated President, Donald J. Trump, is attempting to overturn the results of a legal election, in defiance of the laws of the United States of America. Sen. Hawley is a coup plotter. This Senate has a Constitutional duty to find him guilty. I rest my case.

(Senate Democrats applaud and hurrah.)

Sen. Cruz: I rise to defend Sen. Hawley. We all know this election was a fraud. We’ve been told by no less than President Trump himself, who has access to all the information and knows, I might suggest, more than anyone in this room. The votes in Pennsylvania, Georgia, Michigan, Arizona and Wisconsin went overwhelmingly for President Trump. But Democrats, working from a sinister plan, planted hundreds of thousands of fake mail-in ballots. Sen. Hawley is to be praised for his patriotism!

Sen. Graham: I wish to associate myself with the eloquent remarks of my colleague, Sen. Cruz.

(The Senate votes 60-38 to find Sen. Hawley guilty. Eight Republicans vote with all 52 Democrats. Two abstain.)

Sen. Schumer: The defendant will rise. (Hawley stands.) The Senate orders Joshua Hawley to be expelled from the U.S. Senate immediately, for cause. The Senate further sentences Joshua Hawley to serve a term in the Federal Penitentiary at Leavenworth for a period of not less than forty years for his crimes. The Senate furthermore fines Joshua Hawley in the amount of $4.5 million. This Trial is adjourned. Mr. Hawley’s name is forever shunned. His family will forever be embarrassed.

(Later, ex-President Donald Trump is interviewed on the 18th hole of his golf course in Bedminster, New Jersey. With Trump is his BFF, Lindsay Graham.)

Reporter: Mr. President! What do you think of the Hawley Trial?

Trump: It should have been Crooked Hillary. Why didn’t they go after her emails? Benghazi! And Obama: everybody knows he was born in Africa! Jail that RINO, Brian Kemp! They lied about my inaugural crowd, the biggest in history. I never paid any hush money. I’m running in 2024. You can donate money to Trump4President.org. We will contest this Fake Election and we will win!

Sen. Graham: I associate myself fully with the remarks from President Trump!


CONFESSIONS FROM THE PIZZA PARLOR

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I first began to suspect that they were onto me when I was headed toward the pizza parlor, to molest and slice up another baby. One of us had kidnapped it from a gas station as its mother, a suburban troll with a TRUMP/PENCE bumper sticker on her Taurus, disappeared inside the store, leaving the snotty brat in its baby seat. My colleague, (name deleted), snatched the baby and by the time the mother knew her spawn was gone, (deleted) had long disappeared. He brought the baby to a safe house whose lease was paid for by one of our mentors, John Podesta, whose wealthy funders include George Soros.

Now, you have to understand we’d been gathering in an underground bunker of this pizza parlor for years, ever since Huma Abedin had that tutorial (in the Spring of 2016) where we learned about Muslim techniques of throat slicing. Huma, a vegetarian, insisted that eating the flesh of Republican babies was not a violation of veganism, but a symbol of worship for “Him” whose name shall not be uttered. (“He” is also the one who sent Obama here, to plunder souls and wreak havoc). We certainly had plenty of babies to use; we imported them (under Chuck Schumer’s guidance) from overseas, and sold them to predators. But we always kept the best for ourselves. Huma, a nice lady who would not have countenanced pedophilia, nonetheless was compelled to step aside when Hillary took over. Hillary and her consort, Bill, were both long practiced in the black arts of pedophilia, and, as events proved, necrophilia.

I was then merely a student in the local community college, looking for thrills. I had flirted with the Dark Side as most students do—you know, drunken seances, Tetragrammatons, Aleister Crowley, that sort of thing. But not really. Only because the boy I liked to have sex with was into it. Me, personally? I thought it was kind of stupid. But then (deleted) started explaining certain phenomena to me, and when the pieces began falling into place, it all made sense.

We met in a secret underground chamber in the pizza parlor accessible only through a broom closet, and you had to know exactly which items to move, in certain precise ways, in order for the broom closet—which was actually suspended in a shaft on elevator cables—to lower itself to our stygian gatheringplace. I cannot even now reveal all the details, but they involved, not only the aforementioned broom, but a bucket, a container of Lysol, and a toilet plunger. Then, a 15-second downward journey, and you opened the door to see—

Well, at first it puzzled me. An all-metal room, of a silver-grey hue, dull rather than shiny. Sinks and aluminum tables set around the four walls. Pipes everywhere. There were drainholes in the concrete floor, and air ducts overhead. The lights, which were phosphorescent, crackled and buzzed, and provided a weird, cold glow. In the center of the chamber, an altar of sorts, also of metal, about three feet high, upon which the unfortunate babies were laid to rest, in preparation for what was to follow. Below the altar, drainage ditches to capture the spillage.

And the photos! All around the walls, photographs of our leaders: Hillary. Soros. Obama. Rahm Emanuel. Joe Biden. Sean Penn. Certain Rothschilds. They had been portrayed in such a way that their eyes seemed to follow you wherever you went, which added to the sense of mystical eerieness. It took me a while to grasp the enormity of what we were doing, which was no less than this: to take over the world. To overthrow all religions, all family values, all norms of decency—God himself–and replace them with “His” perverted evil. Who, precisely, “He” was, was never entirely clear to me, although there were rumors it was Paul Begala. But I never doubted that I served Him, through his vessel on Earth, the Democratic Party.

But now, after dozens of rituals performed in our secret necropolis in the bowels of the pizza parlor, there was this sudden, frightful feeling that “they” were onto me. Who were “they”? That was the problem. We knew we had enemies. Our chief protagonist, obviously enough, was Donald J. Trump. He himself had followers, millions of them, white and often obese men and women who fancied themselves patriots, who open-carried their guns, assaulted homosexuals, spat on Muslims and, occasionally, set fire to mosques and synagogues, or tried to assassinate Democratic politicians. But we weren’t really afraid of them. We thought they were morons, until recently, when the threat level rose exponentially.

Our Facebook and Twitter feeds were hacked. Our personal computers were held for ransom. Once, I was routinely surfing the web for porn, when the screen went black and a message appeared: WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE, LIBERAL SNOWFLAKE. Then the phantom words went away as swiftly as they had come, and all was back to normal. Except…it wasn’t.

We soon discovered who “they” were: QAnon. A self-appointed vigilante group, led indirectly by Trump, of course, but more directly by his henchmen: Steve Bannon, Stephen Miller, and, naturally, the spider at the center of all those rightwing webs, Jared Kushner. One day, we were summoned to a group meeting via ZOOM (the pandemic preventing us from gathering in person). Hillary coordinated the meeting. Dressed in a black, head-covering cowl, she informed us we were in mortal peril. These Q-people meant business. They did not hesitate to kill. They aimed at nothing less than eliminating us—all of us, to a woman and a man—and forming a Christian, male-dominated, authoritarian, fascist autocracy in America, under the direction of Trump and his children. We should be very careful, Hillary explained; it was probably best to temporarily halt the baby eating. We should stay away from the pizza parlor, which was thought to be under surveillance by conservative militiamen. We might want to consider increased security measures in our homes.

That night, the night I was aware of being followed, I hid in the bushes at the edge of the parking lot where the pizza parlor was. I was determined to catch my stalker, and, if possible, eliminate him (I assumed it was a male). In my hand I held a kitchen knife. It was dark, with a new Moon. A fine mist moistened the cool air. A black SUV pulled into the parking lot, noiselessly, and parked. Inside its darkened windows I saw the brief point of an orange glow: someone lit up a cigarette, or maybe a joint. The door of the SUV slid open. I saw a booted leg come out, then a second, and then the dark outline of a person in a black uniform. The person looked to the left, to the right, and drew on his cigarette, making the tip glow in the night. Then the person walked slowly toward the pizza parlor. I heard his boots clip-clop on the pavement. I gripped my knife more tightly. He came within ten feet of me. I decided to act. Springing from my bush, holding the knife high over my head, I took two steps toward the phantom, intent on plunging the blade into the back of his neck, when I heard a loud sound. Then I felt a stinging heat in my ribs. That was the last thing I remember, before waking up in this bed, from which I now confess to you, Tucker Carlson, my crime.


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