dChan - Q Origins Project Archive

>the ridiculous political grandstanding of a “break in” to a very storied, important, and high visibility place, just before the Midterm Elections. The whole World was watching as the FBI rummaged through the house,

break-in

wwWw

Watergate

>Watergate x1000

i'm off to tard jail

need moar covfefe

23 minutesbetween truths 2 and 3 in the first batch

>>17393969

>Plants need water

plants watergate

>>17393984

<you have WAY too much time on your hands. get a job, loser.

top kek

how much time do you have nigger?

on here telling people "they" have too much time.

filtered

>stillhere

>>17393998

>Just look back to the days of J. Edgar Hoover.

>Just look back to 1972

>>17394057

>>17393912

>He corrected "the fbi gas" to "the fbi has"

Vietnam War 1955 through 1975

>Just look back to 1972

gas has

g h

7 8

08/14 minus 7 = 08/07

08/14 minus 8 = 08/06

potus 08/07:"Da Nang Dick"

potus 08/06:"Da Nang Dick"

Dick Richard

Richard Nixon

TT1048

[Profile picture from source site (Twitter/Gettr/Truth Social)] Donald J. Trump / @realDonaldTrump 08/06/2022 17:25:00

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Truth Social: 108778035616637676

Anybody that did what SenatorDaNang DickBlumenthal did - having to do with a totally FAKE and made up military service career in Vietnam - should not be allowed to be a U.S. Senator. He is a true lowlife! Vote for Leora Levy, a wonderful woman who will fight for Low Taxes and Energy Independence. She will get the job done, and never let you down!

TT1068

[Profile picture from source site (Twitter/Gettr/Truth Social)] Donald J. Trump / @realDonaldTrump 08/07/2022 16:37:54

ID: Not Available

Truth Social: 108783512711024097

% buffered

00:04

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Download

Image Name: 4a6c09d0242c11ed.mp4

Filename: ages/4a6c09d0242c11ed.mp4

The Fake News made it almost impossible to find this. They scrubbed it. And look who found it, Donald Trump.

The Sanctimonious“Da Nang” Dick.They thought there would be no copies left, and there was one. This is nothing compared to others. If this was a Republican, he would have been gone years ago, and his tapes would have been broadcast all over the world.

Vote for @LeoraLevyCT!

> and his tapes

>gas > has

>g > h

>7 > 8

187

muh 187 minutes

<muh 187 minutes

>muh 187 minutes

>The Fake News made it almost impossible to find this. They scrubbed it. And look who found it, Donald Trump.

>The Sanctimonious“Da Nang” Dick.They thought there would be no copies left, and there was one. This is nothing compared to others. If this was a Republican, he would have been gone years ago, andhis tapes would have been broadcast all over the world.

The Watergate Tapes (lost 18½ minute gap of audio recordings of American President; 1972)

On June 17th, 1972, five burglars were caught rummaging through the Democratic National Committee's office at the Watergate complex in Washington D.C.; the discovery that these men were associated with then-U.S. president Richard M. Nixon led to a thorough investigation from members of Congress into Nixon's involvement with the break-in and his efforts to cover it up. The affair surrounding this investigation, which would eventually culminate in Nixon's own resignation in 1974 while on the brink of a presumably unwinnable impeachment trial, has come to be known as the Watergate Scandal.

During the Watergate investigation, it came to light that Nixon recorded many of his conversations, phone or otherwise, in the White House for his own records. While he wasn't the first president to do this, with Lyndon B. Johnson and John F. Kennedy doing it before him, Nixon's, in particular, were unusually frequent and comprehensive. While Nixon's team initially refused to provide public access to these recordings, the U.S. Supreme Court unanimously declared that executive control over them was unconstitutional before ordering their release. It was from these tapes that numerous crucial conversations between Nixon and his associates would be revealed, including one in which Nixon explicitly ordered a cover-up of the Watergate investigation; it was from this particular "smoking gun" tape that Nixon would eventually be forced to resign the office of the presidency, no longer able to deny his involvement in the break-in.

Rosemary Woods demonstrating how she erased the 18½ minutes, according to her account of the incident.

While it is now common knowledge that Nixon was guilty in his breaches of federal law through his involvement in Watergate, one aspect of the investigation still remains unclear: an 18½-minute portion of audio that had been erased from one of the tapes. Nixon's secretary, Rosemary Woods, claimed that she inadvertently wiped that portion of the tape while answering the phone: according to her account, she had accidentally hit the record button on her Uher 5000 instead of the stop button, re-recording roughly five minutes of the tape. The erasure of the other 13½ minutes supposedly occurred while she was listening to the portion she had re-recorded. Woods' reenactment of her version of the incident was viewed as dubious by Nixon's opponents, who accused Nixon of having erased the 18½ minutes himself.[1]

>>17394151

>187

>muh 187 minutes

><muh 187 minutes

>>muh 187 minutes

>>17393998 (You)

>Just look back to the days of J. Edgar Hoover.

>Just look back to 1972

>>17393969

>Plants need water

>plants watergate

>>17394116

>Vietnam War 1955 through 1975

>Just look back to 1972

>potus 08/07:"Da Nang Dick"

>potus 08/06:"Da Nang Dick"

Don Jr

"Godfather" reference

who has Scavino Profile changed to orange a couple of days ago?

The Godfather

thegodfather.com

The Godfather is a1972American crime film directed by Francis Ford Coppola, who co-wrote the screenplay with Mario Puzo, based on Puzo's best-selling 1969 novel of the same name. The film stars Marlon Brando, Al Pacino, James Caan, Richard Castellano, Robert Duvall, Sterling Hayden, John Marley, Richard Conte, and Diane Keaton.Wikipedia

Director:Francis Ford Coppola

Produced by:Albert S. Ruddy

Screenplay by:Mario Puzo, Francis Ford Coppola

>>17394151

>The Watergate Tapes (lost 18½ minute gap of audio recordings of American President; 1972)

>>17394170

Would be pretty cool if Potus found Dick's missing tape.

Along with some other files

andplanted themin with

muh classified nuclear docs

>>17393998

>Just look back to the days of J. Edgar Hoover.

>Just look back to 1972

>>17394178

x1000

Anonymous ID: aed174 Aug. 14, 2022, 8:37 a.m. No.17394207 🗄️.is 🔗kun >>4222

>>17394194

>President of France

Epstein-linked modeling agent charged with sex crimes

French modeling agent Jean-Luc Brunel has been charged with sexual harassment and rape of minors. He was detained on Wednesday trying to board a plane to Senegal.

Jeffrey Epstein

Disgraced financier Jeffrey Epstein

A French modeling agent associated with disgraced financier Jeffrey Epstein has been charged with sexual harassment and the rape of minors over 15 years old, the office of the Paris prosecutor said on Saturday.

The agent, 74-year-old Jean-Luc Brunel, was detained on Wednesday as part of a probe opened last year into allegations of rape, sexual assault and sexual harassment.

Police arrested him at Paris' Charles de Gaulle airport before he boarded a plane to Senegal.

The prosecutor announced that the charges were handed out Friday by a magistrate at the end of Brunel's custody period.

The magistrate decided that there was not enough evidence to rule on human trafficking charges, which was one of the main lines of inquiry.

>>17394194

>>17394207

>>President of France

Behind Claude’s Doors

In 1960s Paris she became known as the world’s most exclusive madam, whose client list was said to include John Kennedy,de Gaulle, Onassis, and multiple Rothschilds, and whose beautiful and cultivated girls often went on to marry wealth, power, and prestige. But among the many secrets Madame Claude kept, perhaps the greatest were her own. William Stadiem, who knew the elusive Claude in the 1980s, follows her trail to the South of France.

By William Stadiem

August 22, 2014

I met Madame Claude in her Los Angeles exile in 1981. Despite the comforts and status of her A-table at the lodestar Hollywood commissary Ma Maison, despite the homesickness-curing cuisine of Wolfgang Puck, and despite having her hand kissed by the likes of Swifty Lazar and Johnny Carson, France’s—and, surely, the world’s—most exclusive madam was as depressed and displaced as Napoleon on St. Helena. She had relocated to L.A. in 1977, after French authorities had begun pursuing her for tax evasion. I was hoping to cheer her up with a pot of gold in the form of a seven-figure book advance for a tell-all we would write together. We had been introduced by a rising young filmmaker, a member of the post-Shah Persian diaspora whose family included a Claude regular in Paris, where the madam claimed to have assembled a dazzling client list of the rich, powerful, and famous, whose names seemed to be public secrets: de Gaulle, Pompidou, Kennedy, Agnelli, Rothschild, the Shah of Iran.

Then in her late-50s, Claude didn’t fit my bawdy, blowsy stereotype of a madam. She was more like a banker—tiny, blonde, perfectly coiffed, and Chanel-clad, vastly more tasteful than the in-your-face bejeweled and big-haired Hollywood wives lunching around us. Despite Wolfgang Puck’s rich and getting-famous food, Claude ate like a bird, a few slices of tomato, a melon, no alcohol, no cigarettes. All eyes were on her. Word was out. She was a more thrilling, rarer sight than even Faye Dunaway, Michael Caine, or Jack Nicholson, all at Ma Maison that day. As we spoke, I got the sense that, like Ian Fleming’s Goldfinger, she loved only gold. Despite my discordant North Carolina high-school French, when I talked the book money my New York agents had deemed realistic, Madame Claude was all ears.

We spent a month of lunches together. She told me little about her past, other than the fact that she had gotten her start in business by selling Bibles door-to-door. For a book sale, her past didn’t matter as much as her present, and Bibles counted for far less than sin. In time she was comfortable enough to drop names for the proposal. There was the airborne joyride of Elie de Rothschild and Lord Mountbatten in the Rothschild jet, cavorting with Claudettes in the skies above Paris. There was John Kennedy requesting a Jackie look-alike “but hot.” There were Aristotle Onassis and Maria Callas showing up with depraved requests that made Claude blush. There was Marc Chagall giving the girls priceless sketches of their nude selves, Gianni Agnelli taking a post-orgy group to Mass, the Shah and his gifts of jewels. There were such disparate bedfellows on the client list as Moshe Dayan and Muammar Qaddafi, Marlon Brando and Rex Harrison. There was even a story about how the C.I.A. hired Claude’s charges to help keep up morale during the Paris peace talks.

Claude explained that these famous men, men who could have anything and anyone, weren’t paying for sex. They were paying for an experience. As my mind reeled at her revelations, I could not help but wonder how many of them were true. Short of secret cameras and canceled checks, corroboration was impossible. But while she was singing for what we hoped would be a very expensive supper, she was anything but a self-promoter. Just the opposite.

What Claude adamantly refused to reveal, at least until we got our advance, was the roster of women, her “swans,” the ones who married big, the ones who became stars. At Ma Maison she knew everyone, but she warned me, with my imagination now in overdrive, not to read anything into her osculatory greetings with Jacqueline Bisset or Geneviève Bujold. Claude, it became clear to me, was not merely something for the boys. She was a matchmaker who Pygmalionized her charges and married them off to titles, famous names, brand names. The gravamen of pimping—what the French call proxénétisme—is the selling of women into bondage. Claude sold her women into splendor.

Madame Claude was an institution, a legend, and a living legend at that. But she was also a vanishing act. We lost touch when she returned to France in 1985 and cut a deal with the French authorities. But she soon went back to her old tricks, got her business going again, and was finally brought to court in 1992. Shortly after the wave of publicity that accompanied her trial had subsided, Madame Claude left the scene.

Not long ago I learned that she was still in France and still alive, at 91. I thought it was high time to delve into the secrets she had kept so faithfully over six decades. I booked passage to Europe, determined to follow a trail of her old associates, clients, admirers, and adversaries. In trying to get to the bottom of Madame Claude and her world, I would discover that the most tantalizing secret of all was the woman herself.

I was 23 when I went over to her place with Rubirosa,” Taki Theodoracopulos said when I went to see him at his chalet in Gstaad, referring to the notorious Dominican playboy Porfirio Rubirosa. “It was the late 50s, and she was already a legend.” Taki, the longtime “High Life” columnist for London’s Spectator, told me how he had become a loyal Claude client, like so many other well-heeled and well-connected men in the 1950s and 1960s. “Going to a hooker was not looked down upon then. It was before the pill; girls weren’t giving it away.” He said that Claude specialized in “failed models and actresses, ones who just missed the cut. But just because they failed in those impossible professions didn’t mean they weren’t beautiful, fabulous. Like Avis in those days, those girls tried harder. Her place was off the Champs, just above a branch of the Rothschild bank, where I had an account. Once I met her, I was constantly making withdrawals and heading upstairs.”

Taki wasn’t alone. In Paris, I caught up with former star Paris Match reporter Jean-Pierre de Lucovich, who covered the jet-set beat of Paris in the 60s and 70s, the world of Castel and Régine, Maxim’s and La Tour d’Argent. And Madame Claude. “She was all everyone at Match talked about,” de Lucovich said, “and her apartment at 18 Rue de Marignan was right around the corner from our offices. One day, in the wake of a drunken lunch with a visiting English friend, I decided we should go. I got her number from one of the Match guys, and I called her up. ‘ ’Allo, oui?’ she answered. That was her trademark greeting. I dropped the name, and off we went.

“We took the lift and Claude greeted us at the door. My impression was that of the director of a haute couture house, very subdued, beige and gray, very little makeup. She took us into a lounge and made us drinks, whiskey, Cognac. There was no maid. We made small talk for 15 minutes. How was the weekend? What’s the weather like in Deauville? Then she made the segue. ‘I understand you’d like to see some jeunes filles?’ She always used ‘jeunes filles.’ ” This, de Lucovich said, was Claude’s polite way of saying 18 to 25.

Anonymous ID: aed174 Aug. 14, 2022, 8:45 a.m. No.17394228 🗄️.is 🔗kun >>4234

>>17394222

>>17394224

“She left and soon returned with two very tall jeunes filles,” the aging but still rakish reporter went on. “One was blonde. ‘This is Eva from Austria. She’s here studying painting.’ And a brunette, very different, but also very fine. ‘This is Claudia from Germany. She’s a dancer.’ She took the girls back into the apartment and returned by herself. ‘Well?’ she asked. I gave my English guest first choice. He picked the blonde. I wasn’t disappointed. Each bedroom had its own bidet. There was some nice polite conversation, and then . . . It was slightly formal, but it was high-quality.” The Englishman picked up the tab—200 francs. “He paid Claude, not the girls,” de Lucovich said. “In 1965, 200 francs was about $40. Pretty girls on Rue Saint-Denis could be had for 40 francs, so you can see the premium. Still, it wasn’t out of reach for mere mortals. You didn’t have to be J. Paul Getty.”

I spoke in London with one of the last century’s great playboy bankers—who requested anonymity because of an ongoing legal action—about how, in the early 70s, he got hooked on Claude. “The boys at the Travellers sent me over. She was their little secret.” The banker was referring to the august Travellers Club, 25 Avenue des Champs-Élysées, whose membership has always been heavy on British aristocrat types looking for St.-James’s-butlerlevel shelter while in the City of Light. The Travellers clubbily traded hot tips on Claude girls among themselves. The banker, who had dated Christine Keeler, of the Profumo scandal, but was scared away by her gun-toting West Indian drug-dealing boyfriend, was an unabashed aficionado of call girls. No commercial operation, before or since, in his esteemed estimation, could match the Claudian stable. “A lot of them were models at Christian Dior or other couture houses. She liked Scandinavians. That was the look then—cold, tall, perfect. It was cheap for the quality.”

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For de Lucovich, much like the banker, Taki, and countless others, Claude became a habit. “Every day the girls were different, from all over the world, more foreigners than French,” de Lucovich said. “There was always a surprise, and very much like Belle de Jour. ‘Très bien au lit’ was Claude’s characteristic boast. And remember, even though this was France, casual sex was still some time away. Nice girls didn’t ‘do it.’ ” De Lucovich had to give up his Claude habit in the early 70s, when, as he put it, “the Arabs came to Paris,” flush with fortunes from their embargo-inflicted global oil crisis. Suddenly those $40 sessions began costing $500 and up.

>>17394222

>>17394224

>>17394228

As the prices soared, so did Madame Claude’s celebrity. She could be seen at cocktail parties with her close friend, Jacques Quoirez, the screenwriter brother of lit queen Françoise Sagan. Quoirez was also one of Claude’s chief “essayeurs,” or samplers—men of impeccable taste who tested her new girls and rated them like sexual Michelin inspectors. Another “sampler” was widely thought to be the highbrow editor Guy Schoeller, who was one of Sagan’s husbands. De Lucovich remembers one party with Brigitte Bardot. “The unprepossessing Claude was introduced as Fernande Grudet,” de Lucovich said, referring to Claude’s real name. “She was so ordinary, and so odd a fit here, that people began wondering who she was. And when they found out she was Madame Claude, everyone’s interest shifted to her. She became the center. Bardot was all alone.”

In Madam, a memoir she published in France in 1994, Fernande Grudet portrayed herself as an aristocrat, born in the château country of the Loire Valley, where her father was a local solon. She had been educated at a Visitandines convent, taking vows of austerity. She had also been a war heroine, a Resistance fighter who paid for that resistance with an internment at a concentration camp.

Lies, all lies, according to a 2010 French television documentary about Claude. Trying to see the entirety of this program is like trying to crack the Da Vinci Code. The production company that had made it is defunct, and I could not find it in any film archive. It was available, in snippets, on the Internet. It alleged to show proof that père Grudet actually ran a snack cart at the Angers train station, that little Fernande had never been at the convent. As for her time in the concentration camp, ostensibly Ravensbrück, the program explored a story that Claude is said to have told about how she saved the life ofCharles de Gaulle’s niece while there (or vice versa) and submitted to an affair with a German doctor in order to survive. A historian in the documentary said that Claude probably made all of this up, and the idea that the madam was ever interned was dismissed as another example of Claude’s talent for self-mythologizing.

But, according to Patrick Terrail, the proprietor of Ma Maison, “she had a camp number tattooed on her wrist. I saw it.”

Taki concurred. “I saw the tattoo,” he said. “She showed it to me and Rubi. She was proud she had survived. We talked about the camp for hours. It was even more fascinating than the girls.” But which camp was it? The myth may have been Ravensbrück, but only Auschwitz used tattoos. Hence the Rashomon quality of Claude’s life. Taki then told me that Claude had been imprisoned not for her role in the French Resistance but for her faith. “She was Jewish,” he said. “I’m certain of that. She was horrified at the Jewish collaborators at the camp who herded their fellow Jews into the gas chambers. That was the greatest betrayal in her life.”

moar:

>https://www.vanityfair.com/style/society/2014/09/madame-claude-paris-prostitution