RTC: Well, no, such is not good. What happens with the pregnant ones?
GD: I have to pay for the abortions and I am quite opposed to abortion. It would be a mess otherwise. Of course, he will never pay me back. I will have to take him to the vet one of these days and have him neutered. Save me a lot of grief and money.
RTC: There are always problems, aren’t there?
GD: Increasingly, Robert, increasingly. Listen, you and I spoke once about the origin of AIDS….
RTC: That wasn’t us; it was the Navy if you will recall.
GD: I think we have talked about this more than once. And killing of the chink’s rice crops. Well, from a pragmatic point of view, I can see the benefit of doing that. China is coming up very fast and soon enough, she will produce goods better and cheaper than we do. That’s what was behind the First World War. The Brits had a lock on manufactured goods until the Germans caught up with them. Instead of competing, they started a war and everyone went down. I suppose starving the Chinese would be better than nuking them. Less radioactive material in the air. Still, if the Chinese get too big, too fast, they will collapse internally unless, and I stress this, unless they get rid of the ancient Communist bosses and go over to a Western style republic complete with corruption at the highest levels. With their natural business acumen, industrious nature and a rigid dictatorship over everything, something will give in sooner or later. I suppose your people will be giving them a push. Maybe internal strife, maybe something else.
RTC: Well, I am out of it now and it’s their worry. Did you ever talk to Herr Mueller about things like this?
GD: Sometimes but when I was living in Bern, I discussed these things with a very senior KGB person.
RTC: Anyone I know?
GD: First Directorate and all. Probably. Is it snowing there?
RTC: Not now. I don’t suppose….
GD: No, I would rather not. It’s funny about our counter-intelligence. They won’t talk with me even though I know more than they do about their subjects.
RTC: Oh, of course not. Tell the FBI that the CIA wants to talk with you in private and see how fast they occupy your living room.
GD: One against the other, eh? Do it all the time in business. Oh and yes, I almost forgot. A Russian publisher’s representative was chatting with me the other day and mentioned, in passing, that your agency is now full of Jews and that a number of these are keeping their diplomatic pouches crammed with our secrets. You knew that?
RTC: I believe it. Can you give me names?
GD: A pleasure. I will have a list with names and home addresses sent to you from a friend in Maryland. I know nothing about it. Would you shoot them?
RTC: Heart attacks are much easier and less ostentatious. We can’t have that, Gregory. But something from the Russians to us via you is suspect. Not that you are a problem but how do we know they won’t pick out especially effective agents and ruin them?
GD: We don’t, so watch them and see. If they visit the Israeli embassy there, why then you have some confirmation. How would I do it? Take the suspect aside and give them some very reasonable but entirely false information with some zingers included. Then, if this shows up, you have confirmation. And then the car accident or the heart attack.
RTC: Gregory, the additives are not original with you but I applaud your grasp.
GD: Why not just ship all of them down to a new CIA station on McMurdo Sound in the Antarctic and forget to fly in winter supplies. Like food and heating oil. Come spring, a tragic discovery when the snow-covered camp is dug out by rescuers who were alarmed by the lack of reports on the bowel movements of penguins.
RTC: You have a perverse sense of humor Gregory but there is something to say about that.
GD: Or send them on special missions into Arab territory and tip off the Arabs. Let them draw and quarter them without any assistance from you. A nice condolence letter, machine-signed from the director, and some plastic flowers would do nicely.
RTC: Yes and a nice star on the wall.
GD: If I were doing it, there would more stars than the Milky Way.
RTC: We have had to remove a number of bad apples from our barrels, Gregory. Not Jews generally although a few got too uppity.
GD: Do you have any black agents in the field?
RTC: Now that you mention it, we do not. But by God, we do have black waiters in the executive dining rooms. Does that sound better to you?
GD: It’s a start. I note that the Jews like to sponsor blacks so if things go wrong, they will have walking sandbags to absorb the bullets that are meant for them. You should read ‘The True Believer’ by Hoffer. Very good book. Short, sharp and very much to the point. Speaking of landfill candidates, how are the Switzers across the street doing?
RTC: Still there. Maybe you can come up with another idea.
GD: Well a huge car bomb set off just as their Ambassador is starting on a drive to some function might make a point.
RTC: You forget, Gregory, that I live right across the street. Think of my windows.
GD: True. Well, give me some time and I can come up with a solution.
RTC: A Final Solution?
GD: Ah, there we go with the Jews again. My God, what was that sound?
RFC: I was sneezing and knocked over a lamp.
GD: I thought someone blew up the Swiss Embassy.
RTC: There you go, trying to cheer an old man up. There’s broken lamp all over the floor and maybe we can talk again later.
(Concluded at 2:25 PM CST)
Conversation No. 54
Date: Thursday, December 19, 1996
Commenced: 12:12 PM CST
Concluded: 12:38 PM CST
GD: Mrs. Crowley? This is Gregory. Is Robert able to come to the phone?
EC: Yes, dear, he’s much better now. I’ll get him for you. He’s trying to take it easy.
GD: If it’s any problem…
EC: No, no, I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you. Just a moment.
RTC: Gregory? Good to hear from you. I’m really sorry I couldn’t make it to the lunch. Pneumonia got me at the last minute. Did everything go OK? I haven’t heard a word from Kimmel and Bill’s wife is having some kind of medical problems of her own.
GD: It went off fine. A little bizarre if you ask me. By the way, I got the books and I have been going through them. I can certainly use some of your comments later on. Such a compilation of feces.
RTC: Welcome to Washington. Had you ever met Kimmel? I know you never met Bill before.
GD: No, I never had. He’s physically impressive and I’m sure he knows it. Bill looked like I expected him to. I was sitting in the lobby waiting for three people I had never seen and finally in came those two. They walked right by me and were standing in the center of the hallway, you know, the one with the library door on the right?
RTC: Right.
GD: I didn’t see a third person, a tall man with a cane, so I walked up to them and introduced myself. That’s when I learned you had gone to hospital. We stood there making small talk and then went in to lunch. I had crab cakes, which I am very fond of, and they proceeded to impress everyone at the table with their knowledge. We had just gotten past Pearl Harbor Day and that was the main theme. Kimmel on my left and Corson on my right, talking back and forth like two Irish maids over the back fence. Corson telling Kimmel about some secret person he met who knew all about the Roosevelt conversations with Churchill and Kimmel all rapt attention. I have to say I didn’t believe a word of it, but Kimmel certainly did. These people do love to go on.
RTC: Did they ask you anything?
GD: Not that I recall. I think they talked more to the waiter than they did to me.
RTC: That’s unfortunate. Again, I’m sorry I missed you. I’m sure we can get together sometime in the future. Was the food good?
GD: Certainly it was. Of course, if you had come, it might have been a little awkward if we wanted to talk. Then, they would both have shut up and turned on their tape record
ers. Kimmel did ask me if I spoke very much with you, how often and what did we talk about?
RTC: What did you say? Bill will be asking me.
GD: Trust is wonderful, Robert. I just said that we spoke on and off and my, how good the crab cakes were and how was the campaign going to get the Admiral back his stars? Kimmel went off on that subject but I can’t remember much of it. They have has much chance of rehabilitating Grandpa as they do of finding the Lost Dutchman Mine, but I was not asked for any kind of opinion. I have a feeling that they were greatly honoring me with their presences and I could just sit there, basking in the warm glow from two, count them Robert, two suns. And eating crab cakes while getting a psychic tan.
RTC: No mention of Kennedy?
GD: Now that you mention it, yes there was. Corson asked me if we ever talked about that subject and I managed to look surprised. I said that it had never come up and then Corson said, with a really superior smirk, that when he died, the real truth would come out. It seems he had it in his deposit box. Before I could fall on the floor in awe, he smiled, held up his hand and told me that it was just too sensitive to talk about. He likes people to know that he is conversant with very significant information, given in confidence to him by very important, but unnamed people. I acted awed and they went back to impressing each other. I don’t remember the dessert. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, Robert.
RTC: I understand from one of my friends that Langley is getting quite annoyed with your book. Tell me, have…or rather has, anyone contacted you about this? About any proof about this you might have?
GD: Oh, God yes, Robert. Some weasel is always calling me on my unlisted number. It’s the same silly crap every time. ‘Oh Mr. Douglas, my name is Roger Tinkle and I was really thrilled by your book on Heinrich Muller. A friend of mine is working on another book on him too. He is so excited. Do you think we might come and visit with you? Timmy can bring some documents he has that might be of use to you…by the way, are you going to write another book? When can we come?’
RTC: Pitiful. The staff there has gotten much worse than when I was working. And what do you do?
GD: I would like to invite them over, receive a box of cheap candy as a token of their esteem, whack them over the heads with a croquet mallet, drag them into the garden and shove them into a wood chipper, one at a time, of course, and mulch the garden. Of course, I can’t do any of this, but one can dream. What do I do with these idiot approaches? Tell them to bend over and I’ll drive them home? That would be very rude. No, I act thrilled and I always say that I’m expecting a Russian journalist any day and he, too, wants to see the documents so perhaps we can wait until after he and his photographer leave.
RTC: (Laughter) My, my, that ought to pop the pucker string.
GD: (Laughter) No doubt it does. But think about that for a moment, Robert. The pucker string pops in their office, not my living room. Then it becomes their janitor’s problem, not mine. Listen, while you were incapacitated, I came across a book by someone named Peter Dale Scott. Is he one of yours?
RTC: Why do you ask?
GD: Well, he drags in every silly story I have ever heard. He takes a placid, clear pond and dumps two garbage cans of trash into it. You can’t see the bottom of the pond anymore and the flies are buzzing all over the place. By the garbage I mean the silly stories about men with umbrellas, the grassy knoll, Ruby’s dog, mysterious men in black underwear meeting in a pub in Philly, sabot shells and all the rest of the idiot crap. And by the flies, I mean the airheads who call themselves ‘researchers’ who swarm around like blowflies on pig shit with about as many brains. But what is really funny about this book…it’s on the table here…’Deep Politics and the Death of JFK’ published…oh here we go, the University of California. My, my, and I always thought they put out worthwhile books. But what is really funny is that the author solemnly talks about Occam’s Razor. He said, Occam did, ‘entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem,’ which translates into: “Entities must not be multiplied beyond necessity.” Are you into Latin, Robert?
RTC: Not really but you seem to be.
GD: I’m fluent in ten languages, Robert. My sister knows twelve, but she can’t say ‘no’ in any of them. The original good time that’s been had by everybody. Anyway, Occam is dead on. If you take a complex subject like the Kennedy killing, strip away all the silly shit, you will find the answers you need. I think this Scott fellow stuck that in to impress people. Of course he went right on to violate the concept, so I doubt if he had any idea what he was talking about. So few of them really do. I had to stop reading about every third page because I was laughing so loud. He, in essence, covers himself with his own confusion, as with a mantle.
RTC: Is that Occam?
GD: No, Psalm 109, verse 29. There are so many nice things in the Bible. Nice to quote, but as history, as worthless as most of the Kennedy books. Apropos of nothing, speaking of worthlessness, do read some of James Montgomery Burns’ books sometime. He thinks the sun radiated out of Roosevelt’s raddled anus. Burns must have taught Posner[42] his tricks. And if you want to read a really important book, read ‘The True Believer’ by Hoffer. A wonderful book, Robert. I met the man at a book signing at Paul Elder’s in the City once and paid him several visits later. It’s about fanatics and I highly recommend it. Or, if you want to go to sleep, read Hermann Hesse. He could put a speed freak to sleep.
RTC: Well, the body of literature on Kennedy is, as you said, full of yesterday’s dinner, but we like it that way and, in point of fact, we have paid for some of it. We got Posner to whore for us and a number more, but this Scott is not a name I recognize.
GD: But he, his wife and his cousin do. I am certain of that. You know, Robert, I like the outdoors because there are so few people around. I love the forest and every time I read these essays in mendacity, sired by broke-backed academics, I think of all the beautiful trees that were sacrificed for such a worthless cause. That’s a terrible cross for the CIA to bear, along with, naturally, all the killings and disruptions they fathered. No offence meant to you, of course.
RTC: Sometimes you are not kind, Gregory.
GD: Sometimes? Always. Emily said you were resting. Am I keeping you up?
RTC: Not at all. I’m just a little worn out, that’s all. You did get the books? Good. I think you’ll find some interesting notes scattered around in it. And speaking of idiots calling you, I’m going to send you a computer printout with the names of thousands of people like the ones you are talking about. Thousands. Alphabetically listed. I used my own lists and the AFIO lists to put it together. And if someone rings you up and pulls that silly crap on you, you can look them up in the list immediately.
GD: I appreciate that, Robert. Can I publish that?
RTC: I would rather you did not, Gregory. It might stunt a career or two, especially in the media.
GD: They’re stunted to begin with. My late Grandfather, of blessed memory, once said that ‘once a newspaperman always a whore.’
RTC: That’s hardly a constructive thing to say to an impressionable child, do you think?
GD: I told my son that once and now he’s working for a newspaper. They always defy the father, don’t they?
RTC: Not always.
GD: Well, listen, Robert, I am sorry I missed you but I am happy I can talk with you still.
RTC: Oh yes. I still have my case with all the Kennedy material in it. I will have it sent to you when I can find the right person to do it for me.
GD: Thank you very much, Robert, and in advance. If it’s as interesting as the annotated Warren Report, I can write a best-seller.
(Concluded at 12:38 PM CST)
Conversation No. 55
Date: Monday, December 30, 1996
Commenced: 8:45 AM CST
Concluded: 9:21 AM CST
RTC: Hello, Gregory. Have a nice Christmas?
GD: Wonderful. I got a sled, some bunny slippers, a silencer for my shotgun, a pornographic Bible, three p
air of socks that were too small and a dead turtle. Yourself?
RTC: Somehow, I don’t believe you. Christmas was fine here. I take it you did not have an extensive Christmas.
GD: The rabbit died and we were in deep mourning. But then we ate it and felt much better.
RTC: I could send a sympathy card.
GD: Just flush it down the loo. It might meet up with what’s left of the rabbit. Robert, to be serious, you said that Corson did not like Mark Lane. He represented Carto in a lawsuit and I was wondering what was the reason for the bad feeling?
RTC: My God, Gregory, this is like an old auntie’s sewing circle. Everyone here hates everyone else, tells lies, sticks out their tongues at each other and acts like small children. There was a lawsuit of the Keystone Cops type. Victor Marchetti, who used to be one of ours but got booted out, wrote an article for the Spotlight paper saying that Hunt had been in Dallas on the day Kennedy was shot. He was. Hunt sued the paper and got a judgment. The paper fought back and got Mark Lane to defend them.
GD: The Oswald lawyer?
RTC: The same. So they went back and forth. Marchetti is a fat slob who thinks he is very important when we who really know him consider him to be a chattering nut. Hunt is grossly incompetent but the reason why Corson hates Lane and everyone else, is that Marchetti claimed he got this information about Hunt in Dallas on November 22nd from Corson. Corson got dragged over the coals by Lane and clearly was proved to be a liar. However, there was a third person there when Corson told his little story to Marchetti and that’s what nailed him. Poor Bill. He always has to put his oar in, needed or not.
GD: Well, he told Kimmel that he knew some secret British soldier who told Corson about the Roosevelt/Churchill conversation. Corson claimed he backed it up. Kimmel went for this like a duck after a June bug, but I can’t believe it. Who was this mysterious witness? Corson said his lips were sealed.
RTC: Too bad that isn’t true.
GD: Back and forth. I know Corson has lectured me on a subject that I knew far better that he did but I just kept quiet and acted impressed. Didn’t he get court-martialed?
Conversations With the Crow Page 32