Exclusive Story: Anthony Weiner Used Drones to Spy on Hillary Rival

In 2015, Anthony Weiner used drones to spy on Jeb Bush's presidential campaign.

I have known about this for some time, but my source only agreed to let me tell the story just now. 

Here's what happened. In the summer of 2015, Jeb Bush had a fundraiser in the Hamptons at someone's personal residence. At the time, he was widely viewed as the frontrunner for the Republican nomination. One hundred and fifty or so guests gathered on the lawn for the event. As Bush began to make his remarks, a drone appeared about twenty feet over the crowd's heads. It was a substantial one with four propellers and a camera, and it made a fair bit of noise.

Jeb made a crack that it was probably "Hillary spying on us," and the crowd laughed. The host and his family debated getting a shotgun to deal with the problem but decided they weren't sure of the legality. After a few minutes, the drone exited. Two of Bush's staffers followed out the driveway and down the road a bit. There, they saw two men load the drone into a station wagon. 

One of them was unmistakably Anthony Weiner.

If you are fuzzy on the grand timeline of Anthony Weiner's personal descent, 2015 was after he'd been caught on at least two different occasions sexting with women on Twitter - Carlos Danger, remember? - and also after he had his mayoral campaign implode. It was prior to the underage sexting that got him sent to the big house. Basically, he was in the wilderness, both socially and politically, with little to occupy his days, although he was still married to Huma Abedin.

He needed a way to find redemption, a purpose. Was it by doing black bag ops for Hillary?

One can imagine how the video footage might have been used by the Clinton campaign. "See Jeb Bush Hanging Out with His Billionaire Buddies in the Hamptons!" (Never mind that Hillary raised money there as well, and probably knew more billionaires than Jeb.)

The idea that Weiner might have run this operation without the express approval of both Hillary and Huma Abedin seems implausible. They probably tasked him with this because he literally had nothing else to do and was eager to win back any sort of role for himself. (We've all seen how self-deluded Weiner could be.)

That Weiner and the Clinton machine would pull a stunt like this isn't in the least bit surprising. What is surprising is that the Bush campaign knew exactly what happened and did nothing with the information. Use of a drone to spy on a political rival is scandalous, and would have been so at the time, and yet Jeb sat on it. 

Low energy, indeed.

Anyone think the Trump campaign might have dealt with the situation differently? Republicans nominated Trump precisely because he was the counter-puncher they craved after decades of Republicans who always knew their place. 

Like Jeb.

If this had happened at a Trump campaign event, "Dronegate" would today be part of the national lexicon.

Does this story have current relevance? Certainly not for Weiner; he is a man of irrelevance and will be for the rest of his life. But Hillary Clinton still inserts herself into the national conversation and some think she might run again. Of course, she would deny any of this, but maybe Weiner himself is just desperate enough for public attention (of any kind) that he might just own up to his dirty tricks.

Shame on the Yale Daily News

Sometimes I fear Yale has jumped the shark. As an alum who still wants to love the place (and will always love the experience he had), it makes me profoundly sad.

Today, the Yale Daily News printed a column of breathtaking excrescence. Vile and racist. You can read it yourself here. Written by a senior named Isis Davis-Marks, it starts off, "Everyone knows a white boy with shiny brown hair and a saccharine smile that conceals his great ambitions." It goes on to suppose that the "white boy" grows up and one day Isis will see him at something like a Senate confirmation hearing.

And then. "I'll remember a racist remark that he said, an unintentional utterance that he made when he had one drink too many at a frat party his sophomore year. I'll recall the message that accidentally left open on a computer when he forgot to log out, where he likened a woman's body to a particularly large animal. And, when I'm watching him smile that smile, I'll kick myself thinking I could have stopped it."

She (I'm assuming gender here - probably a microaggression) goes on to concede that not everyone at Yale is evil. At least not those from oppressed, non-privileged classes, anyway. She is still very upset ("indelibly") by the Kavanaugh hearings. She wants all accusations of sexual misconduct at Yale made public.

Then Isis decides the real problem lies with Yale's values:

To be honest, I’m not sure what the solution is. This expands beyond vocalizing problems about sexual assault: The core of this problem has to do with our values. The problem isn’t just the Yale administration; it’s Yale students. We allow things to skate by. We forget. We say, “No, he couldn’t have done that,” or, “But he’s so nice.” No questions are asked when our friends accept job offers from companies that manufacture weapons or contribute to gentrification in cities. We merely smile at them and wave as we walk across our residential college courtyards and do nothing. Thirty years later, we kick ourselves when it’s too late.

Is this where I point out that Yale is probably the most progressive place on the planet? And do many Yalies go into defense contracting? Never met one, myself.

She ends with this haymaker:

But I can’t do that anymore — I can’t let things slip by. I’m watching you, white boy. And this time, I’m taking the screenshot.

Wow. Could you imagine if someone said, "I'm watching you, black boy. I know you're going to (fill in crime here)?" Oh my God, what a shit storm. Without a doubt, people would by tossed out. But as long as racsim/sexism is aimed at non-oppressed classes (read: white males), no biggie. Nothing to see here.

But here's what really gets me going. The Yale Daily News has refused to publish any online comments on the article. Not one. I myself have submitted two, and both were apparently rejected. An article this incendiary, and we are expected to believe there are no comments? My guess is they are surprised, because Yale is an ideological echo chamber, and Isis's piece, within the bubble, is fairly conventional thinking.

That's the way it is in Campusland.

Campusland Cover Art Is Here

Gotta say, they did a nice job.

The House Might Be ThisClose - Chaos Will Ensue

With all the talk of a "blue wave," there's a much more likely scenario that no one's talking about, and God help us if it happens. That is, the House is won by one party or the other by one or two seats.

Why do I say this? I went through every House poll I could find for any district that is even remotely competitive, and I just added them up. If candidate A is up by even a point, I give the race to him or her. (Obviously, that is within the margin of error but it cuts both ways.)

Here's what I got:

Republican seats flipping to Dems:        26
Dem seats flipping to Republicans:          3

Net Dem pickup:                                    23

Dem pickups required to take control:   24

Yes, that's right. Democrats fall one short. I realize there's a lot of potential error in this, but the possibility is real. The signs point towards a rather average gain for the out-of-power party in a midterm election (which is 25, by the way). No blue wave, just average-ness.

I checked the history books, by the way. There's never been a one-vote margin in the House.

Think about the craziness we'll have to endure if this happens. Neither party will take losing by one or two seats well, but I think it's safe to say the Democrats will take it less well. They fully expect to win this and if they don't, they will take to the streets. They will also send thousands of lawyers out to every district that was within a couple of points. There will be endless recounts. Cries of fraud and voter suppression will be heard across the land (even if they never seem to find someone whose vote was actually suppressed). Next year's House will be called "invalid." (Sound familiar?)

Scorched earth, like the Kavanaugh hearings. I, for one, hope it doesn't happen, but the alternative would be even worse.

(Don't) Speak Your Truth

Has anyone else noticed the rapidity with which this bit of rhetoric - speak your truth - has crept into the cultural firmament? I first took note of it a few months ago, and now, like the proverbial buzzing of a light fixture, I can't stop hearing it. 

Apparently, it was Oprah who first popularized it, saying it is the "most powerful tool we have." By we, I am quite certain she did not mean me, as I do not fit the demographic profile of those allowed to have their own proprietary version of the truth.

Let me explain. What is meant by the phrase, by those who wield it, is that if you have been abused in some way (presumably by a white male), or you have been generally oppressed (again, by white males and the patriarchy), "speaking your truth" is having the courage to give testimony to your experience.

Most recently, we heard the odious Cory Booker use the phrase to describe Christine Blasey Ford's Senate appearance. Her truth was most definitely that Brett Kavanaugh tried to rape her.

I have two problems with all this. One somewhat minor, the other not. Using Blasey Ford as an example, let's say, for the sake of argument, she's telling the whole truth. That would mean it was the truth, would it not? Not her truth. Calling it her truth implies there could be other truths. Isn't there only one truth? That's what I was taught. I am bothered on a lexical level - it undermines our language. Words have meaning.

Aly Raisman, the gymnast (pictured at the top), was in fact abused by the abominable Larry Nassar. We know this to be the literal truth. Why undermine it by calling it "her" truth?

Back to Blasey Ford. Let's now say she's not telling the truth about what happened, or more to the point, is telling a story that, while not being exactly truthful, speaks to her broader life experiences. Not truth, but truthiness. This is where I have a big problem. Perhaps she was abused by someone at some point, someone who wasn't Kavanaugh. She certainly seems troubled by something. Projecting on to Kavanaugh could be an outlet for her anguish or maybe a bogus recovered memory - who knows? In that case what she is doing is making Kavanaugh guilty by association. The left has gleefully accepted this approach, basically because Kavanaugh's a man and they don't like his politics. (His being Catholic doesn't help, either.)

The concept of white privilege ties closely into this. It basically says that all white people harbor subtle forms of racism no matter how enlightened they think they are. It's weaponized political correctness, and it is a growing trend. It means anyone can be made guilty of anything if you run afoul of the left's agenda. 

What did Beria say? Show me the man and I will show you the crime.

So please, don't speak your truth.

Campusland to be Published

Pleased to share that someone besides me thinks Campusland is funny. St. Martins Press has bought the book, and will publish it in September of 2019. Bummer it takes so long (publishing is definitely not like the tech industry), but that's the way of it.

Campusland Snippet #7 - Trick or Treat

Halloween doesn't always go down so smoothly these days at Devon. The following is an excerpt from the Devon Daily...

Devon Daily - November 2nd

                            Costumes Spark Outrage

Thursday night’s Halloween revels were marred by several incidents surrounding the alleged insensitivity of some costumes, with one incident resulting in violence. Accusations ranged from racism and sexism to cultural appropriation.

One student, dressed as prominent transsexual Caitlyn Jenner, attended Wolcott House’s annual “Inferno” event, and was confronted by a number of other students from the Devon LGBT Coalition who were angry that the student in question was not, himself, LGBT, and was possibly making light of Jenner and transsexualism. The confrontation grew heated and drew the attention of some campus Democrats, also in attendance, who were offended over Jenner’s coming out as a Republican. This precipitated an angry exchange between the two groups, described by one observer as a “fight over who was more offended.” Sometime during the exchange, the student dressed as Jenner left the party without ever being identified.

Elsewhere, a party goer at the Beta Psi fraternity, dressed as the “Frito Bandito,” drew the ire of members of the Latino House. Seeing a post of the offending costume on the fraternity’s Instagram page, members of the Latino House demanded entry to the party to confront the offending cartoon bandit. When told they were not on the party’s list, a fight ensued, prompting an appearance by the Havenport police. No arrests were made.

“This is an outrage,” said Vincent Lopez, a member of the Latino House. “The Frito Bandito plays into the worst sort of Mexican stereotypes. And even if it didn’t, what right does this white person of privilege have to appropriate a Latino character?”

Beta Psi president Ted Hutchins stated, “It was a private party and besides, people should just lighten the f**k up.”

Asked to comment, Martika Malik-Adams, the Devon’s Dean of Diversity and Inclusion, stated she was “troubled,” and that her department was forming a committee to set costume guidelines going forward.

Campusland Snippet #6 - The Tarzan of Anderson House

A story from Devon back in the day when her father Sheldon was a freshman. Lulu will find inspiration from it when she hits a low point...

The Tarzan of Anderson House

Late one night, someone lowered a window on the fifth floor of Anderson House, a freshman dorm on the East Quad right across from Duffy. Yelling into the darkness, he executed a perfect Tarzan call, right out of the back lot jungles of Metro-Goldwyn Mayer. It went largely unnoticed, but then he did it again the next night. And the next, and the next after that, all at precisely the same time: 11:09. 

After a week or so, a small crowd began to gather, eager for the nightly Tarzan call. That no one knew the would-be Tarzan’s identity added to the crowd’s general ironic self-amusement. (No one liked self-consciously ironic humor more than Devonites.) It was always dark and Tarzan never stuck his head out far enough to be identified. No one in Anderson was talking, either. When the Devon Daily wrote a piece about it, the crowds got larger, numbering in the hundreds each night, their excitement often fueled by alcohol. Tarzan developed a sense of drama, now delaying his nightly calls by a few minutes to build the anticipation. Other pseudo Tarzans would call out from Pope and Ketcham but these pretenders were always roundly booed by the crowd. Only the Anderson House Tarzan was worthy of their adoration. They chanted, Tar-zan, Tar-zan, building in volume until, at last, he would come. 

As the fame of the Anderson House Tarzan grew, someone at the Daily wrote, “I was reminded of those old film reels from Mussolini rallies in the 30s, where the crowd would scream ‘Il Duce’ over and over until he appeared on the balcony.” Tarzan-themed parties sprang up around campus, serving “jungle juice” (naturally) and campus conversation was of little else. Things in East Quad eventually got so unruly that the administration felt the need to intervene. They narrowed the possible Tarzans down to five, and let it be known through the Anderson RAs that Tarzan could have one final call, and then no more. 

That night, over a thousand people gathered in East Quad, many dressed as Tarzan or Jane. There were one or two ape suits as well. The Devon Marching Band showed up, playing “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” over and over (it was the only jungle-themed song they knew). Some reporters from the CBS Evening News even came, planning on doing one of those human interest pieces that come at the end of the broadcast, the ones that always start with, “And finally tonight…” All this had the effect of whipping the crowd into a frenzy. One observer later described them as a “mob, coiled as a spring.” Finally, the window opened, and a single hand emerged to silence the crowd. As a midnight calm fell over the scene, there came the most beautiful, perfectly executed Tarzan call that anyone had ever heard. When it stopped, there were a few moments of reverent silence, as if the crowd was moved by what they had just heard. 

And then everyone pretty much lost their minds.

The crowd became a mob in a matter of seconds, starting with throwing rocks at Anderson, smashing most of the windows. Were they angry that they could no longer have their Tarzan? Perhaps. Or were they just whipped up into a frenzy of self-amusement? Those asked later didn’t really have an answer. It just seemed like the thing to do. 

Having dispensed with Anderson, the mob moved out onto Dudley Street, trampling cars, tearing off their shirts, making jungle noises and beating their chests. By the time the Havenport police arrived over a dozen vehicles had been damaged. Two dozen students spent the night as guests of the city. CBS News got its story, but it was no longer of the human-interest variety. Their lead in was, “Violence Erupts on Devon Campus.” 

No one ever did figure out who Tarzan was. Sheldon said at his 25th reunion at least seven classmates claimed the Tarzan mantle for themselves, though Sheldon said the real Tarzan would never be one to take personal credit.

Campusland Snippet #5 - Meet Stillman Weathers, Devon Board Chair

When things at Devon go awry, the Chairman of the Board of Governors has to make an unscheduled visit. Good thing he's got his new toy...

Stillman Weathers

Stillman Weathers poked at his tuna tartare and looked out the cabin window. With a cruising altitude of 42,000 feet, his company’s brand new Gulfstream G650 didn't offer much to see. Even the clouds looked far below. 

Stillman rubbed the soft Spanish leather on his armrest. He loved his new toy, which seated eight, had a crew of four, and a top speed just shy of Mach 1. 

He liked saying that. Mach 1. The speed of sound. The G650 waiting list was long but Stillman’s company had always been a good Gulfstream customer, so they got the fourth one off the line. He noticed it was the only one parked at Davos last month. 

With its final configuration, the tab to his company came to $72 million. This had given Stillman some pause, but he worked hard, and it wouldn’t do to waste half his days in commercial airports, not with what his time was worth. And besides, his company, Loritel Industries, made $3.2 billion last quarter. The shareholders wouldn’t squawk, that’s for sure. Not with numbers like those. 

“Will that be all, Mr. Weathers?” asked Jenny, the plane’s stewardess. 

“Yes, thank you, Jenny. You can knock off for a bit.”

Today, Stillman was the only passenger. As the Chairman of Devon’s Board of Governors, he was heading to Havenport for an emergency meeting of the Steering Committee, which was basically the small subset of the board that actually got things done. The board itself had forty-five members, a size that maximized financial gifts but rendering productive meetings impossible. When you got right down to it, the broader board didn’t do much, not that anyone on the outside had to know. 

The unscheduled trip was an inconvenience, but Stillman was silently pleased to think he was riding to the rescue. Being Chair of Devon’s board pleased Stillman almost as much as being CEO of Loritel…no, it pleased him more. For better or worse, the corporate world was tainted. They were moneymen, strivers, never completely respected in the corridors of media and political power. He’d given over $100 million of his shareholders’ money away last year to various charities to wash himself of the stain, and naturally he signaled his disdain for the current administration in Washington at every opportunity, but still…the stain remained. He felt it. 

Academia, on the other hand, was still the province of an intellectual nobility, where inhabitants toiled in the pursuit of pure truth, not mammon. While Stillman projected an image of serene authority, he was secretly as thrilled as a little boy about his ascendancy to the Devon Chair. It conferred, in the circles he cared about, a legitimacy that couldn’t be bought. And heck, he still loved the place, having spent his undergraduate years as a history major and heavyweight rower. In many ways, those were the best four years of his life. 

The situation with the black students would have to be handled with tact. When he was a student, back in the early seventies, there were minority students on campus, but nothing like today, what with outreach being such a priority. At his last reunion, a classmate of his - whose son had recently been rejected - quipped that back in their day, if you saw a black student you might whisper they were likely a football or basketball player. Now, the joke went, if you saw a preppie white kid you might mutter, “probably a lacrosse player.” Like most successful jokes, it had the air of truth. Times had changed, and it was part of Stillman’s job to help the school navigate that change. He couldn’t allow anything to undermine Devon’s reputation and, not unimportantly, his own. In Stillman’s world, a well-maintained order was the most virtuous state of affairs. 

But he wondered about Milton. What kind of show was he running? Events were spinning beyond his control. Stillman would bottom line this thing and put it in the rear view mirror. That’s what he did. If some knuckles had to be rapped, so be it. 

Since this was his first trip to Devon in his new iron, his people had to call to make sure Havenport Airport’s lone runway had the necessary length. It could, if just barely. Iron. It’s what CEOs called their planes when they were in each other’s company. He loved that word.  

He felt the G650 start its long descent. Maybe he’d tell the pilot to come in low over the campus on approach so he could see how the two new houses were coming.