The Official “Benghazi Story” (…If You Catch My Drift) Gets Organic
“Love.” “Honey trap.” … Benghazi? Wrong pattern.
Back in the geophysics day, we learned that all systems filtered signals into data – and so to pull meaning from data, one had to understand the error induction of the system on the initial signal. McLuhan said it differently, of course, but the principle applies: If the source has a spotty record, one ought to reach for the salt cellar. Which brings us to the point of all this, being Mike Ledeen’s latest post on Benghazi in which lies this little ditty:
ML: “Yeah, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t involved in smuggling weapons to the anti-Assad crowd in Syria.”
Uh-huh. The pattern suggested otherwise. Humor and farce are one thing; practicing on one’s readers another. I wasn’t sanguine in the least, not without first cross-checking the data. OuiJa boards aren’t ‘zackly reliable. Sources, sources. Then it hit me…
I know a research engineer who was fabulous at drilling down on things. I crawled up to the attic where the vintage Mac Plus sits atop an old desk. I plugged the discolored beige Mac into the one receptacle up there, turned the back of the machine to face due East and hit the switch. The old grey CR raster screen warmed up. A minute or so later I typed in “Dad@Heaven” and hit “return.” You never know, right?
Dad: “Hi Number One! What’s up!?”
Me: tappitty-click “DAD! Hey, Dad! I miss you!”
Dad: “Love you lots. I see you’re busy. (Yes, thanks, I’ll have another.)”
Me: “Sounds like they’re spoiling you rotten! Hey, Dad, did you catch ML’s latest post?”
Dad: “Oh, are they ever. Ah, yes, intercepted it in real-time, which is quite a trick when you’re not even on that axis. You’d go crazy if you could see the bandwidth!”
Me: [chuckles] “Wow! You engineers are scary, Dad! So?”
Dad: “Well, it’s not funny in the least. “Love” per se had sweet nothing substantively to do with Stevens’ mission in Benghazi. You know the old joke about “Second date? What’s a “second date”?” It wasn’t a honey anything. If it appeared more as a sacrifice; as a deliberate set-up, it’s because you’re paying attention.”
Me: “But that would be high trea-”
Dad: “-WHO was the first foreign official to be telephoned by The Won on the evening of his 2008 win? Who was it who left the compound one hour before the “spontaneous riot” broke out?”
Me: “Right, the Turkish-”
Dad: “-EXACTLY. This is Iran-Contra on steroids, and that’s the good news, Number One. You guys also had fine, honorable men betrayed and left behind to be murdered, an ambassador butchered alive – ALIVE – when he was caught, Admiral Gaouette and General Ham fired for refusal to belay a rescue, a CinC going to bed, an innocent man at home arrested and jailed for “posting a video,” an SoS BS-ing full-time and now your “friends” practicing taqia and a media machine that can’t give a sweet bloody damn. It would and should be quite literally the biggest story since Pearl Harbor. Nothing to chuckle about.”
Dad: “Look, Number One. I’m not telling you things you don’t already know. We have rules here, you understand. But I can tell you to watch the patterns and that you’re right to account for the error factors of the various sources. Trust, verify, all that.”
Dad: “Gotta run. …And keep praying. Your prayers matter. Proud of you. Fix that little balsa airplane and get it flying. It will cheer you up a bit.”
Me: “Love you Dad.”
Dad: “Eternal love to your Sweetie and the Kids!”
I hit the switch on the back and just sat there for a while in the shadows. Unplugged the Mac and crawled down into the light.