Nowhere To Go

One has to wonder how this tool thought it might end:

A former CIA officer admitted in a plea deal Tuesday that he disclosed details about a secret U.S. intelligence source to a foreign official and embezzled nearly $200 million from the federal government.

David Rush pleaded guilty in Virginia federal court to one count of wire fraud after an FBI raid on his home in May uncovered 298 gold bars worth $46 million, $2.1 million in cash and dozens of luxury items. 

Justice Department officials said Rush embezzled $194 million from the federal government, using his position at the intelligence agency to create an elaborate scheme designed to facilitate his “maximum self-enrichment at the expense of the United States.”

At some point, you have to wonder how this traitorous asshole thought he was going to spend all that moolah without someone eventually saying, “How did he get to buy all that shit, on a government salary?”

Well, obviously he couldn’t, so all he could do was sit on his pile of gold and look at his Rolex collection or whatever.

Pathetic.

If you’re going to do this embezzlement thing on a large scale, or get paid large sums by a foreign government, the least you could do is insist on being paid with bearer bonds;  because the nice thing about bearer bonds is that they don’t weigh anything (relative to gold, for sure), and you can fold them up, travel to — I don’t know, Liechtenstein or Monaco, for example — and use that money to fund a vacation of your dreams.

Live for today, in other words, because at some point, you are going to be discovered and have the dogs sicc’d onto you, and instead of memories of having hot and cold running women catering to your every perverted need in a 5-star hotel room, all you’ll have left is the memory of a pile of gold ingots.

As you’re walking up the steps to the gallows.

(In any just world, that is.  What’s really going to happen is that he’ll go to jail for a few years, then get an early release — because that’s what happens nowadays — and make a fortune by writing a book and getting a job as a “security consultant” on one of the Commie TV networks.)

Don’t get me started.


Sorry, this post should have appeared earlier, but I messed up the time stamp.

 

Monday Funnies

Here we go:

Let’s get back to the usual smut and bad taste, FFS.

I think I’ll just go back to bed.  Wake me up when all this pumpkin-flavored bullshit is over, willya?

On the other hand, it is the month for Oktoberfest, so there’s that.

Top Luxury

The DM has posted this year’s list of “Top 50 Hotels” in the world — “top” being the prices you’ll pay to stay there, and the chances are that most of us are unlikely ever to judge the validity of said list.

I was amazed, however, to discover that I’d actually stayed at two of them (#13 Claridges in London and #34 Mount Nelson in Cape Town).  Of course, both stays were paid for by my long-suffering employers or clients at the time.  If you wanted to ditch the parvenu/nouveau riche atmosphere of almost all the others on the list, both of these hotels would be perfect.  “Class” is the word.

Needless to say, I am unlikely ever to stay at any of the others, mostly because of my parlous financial state but also because I’m highly unlikely ever to visit the shithole countries these “palaces” are located in.

All that said, there are a couple I’d stay at simply because of their location:

#42  Sacher Hotel (Vienna) — I might prefer the Bristol (just across the street, although I see it’s currently being renovated).  Note:  if you stay there, try to get a room which doesn’t overlook the Ringstrasse because the traffic noise is horrendous.  Related:  I would definitely stay at the Sacher’s sister hotel in Salzburg, simply because of its location on the Inn River and across the bridge from the Altstadt.

#5  Passalacqua (Lake Como) — Never been to Como — it’s very high on Ye Olde Bucquette Lystte — so this would be a natural.

#39  Portrait Milano (Milan) — ditto.  Can’t fathom how I never got round to Milan in all my European Vacations.

#40  Hôtel de Paris Monte-Carlo, Monaco — Drove past it with Former Drummer Knob, and it reeks class.  You want a sea-facing room and not one facing onto the Casino entrance, because of the traffic noise — all those assholes with their Lambos and Bugattis jostling to get a space near the entrance… ugh.  (For those who don’t know:  the concierges at the Casino always give parking preference to the $1 million-plus cars, and it’s considered a status symbol to be parked right outside.  Frankly, Monaco is one of the last places on Earth I’d want to drive a car, but hey.)

#44  Hotel du Cap-Eden-Roc, Antibes — Antibes is one of my favorite towns in the world, and if you want to escape the hustle and bustle of Monaco but still enjoy the delights of the Midi, none compares.

And now the usual disclaimers.

There’s no denying that a stay at a luxury hotel is wonderful — an indulgence, if you will — but one thing that most of them miss is class.  (Mistaking “luxury” for class is a common mistake.)  Yes, you’re also likely to encounter a better type of person at, say, the Ritz-Carlton, although the emergence of the Arab/Russian/Tech Billionaire Set has made this far less of a feature because they want to flash the cash, and where better than on an overpriced hotel room.  (Ditto overpriced hypercars, but let’s stay on track, so to speak.)

I will never forget, though, the time I was staying at the Royal Hotel in Durban — at the time, one of the best hotels anywhere — and had the misfortune of tipping over a plate of exquisite lobster bisque into my lap.  Of course, it was only an overnight stay and I had a client meeting the next morning, so I didn’t have a spare.  The restaurant’s maître d’hotel took care of everything, hustling me off to my room for a change of clothes;  and upon my arrival there, I found the concierge waiting to take my suit (and shirt, and tie) off to the dry cleaners — at 11 o’clock at night.  It was all brought back to my room at 7 o’clock the next morning.  When I checked out, I searched for a dry cleaning charge on my bill, but there wasn’t one;  and nor was there a charge for my dinner, even though I’d gone back down to finish my meal.

For the rest of my business trips to Durban (and there were many), I never stayed anywhere else.  On one occasion, the hotel was fully booked, and I rescheduled my meeting for the following week just so I wouldn’t have to put up with another hotel.  (By the way, the Edward Hotel in Durban was also a five-star joint and equally luxurious, but I only ever stayed there once, put off by the traffic noise on the beachfront.  The Royal overlooked Durban Harbor, a much quieter location.)

So yeah, you’ll get service at a luxury hotel that you just won’t get at yer typical Holiday Inn Express or the Fleabagge Hotel in King’s Cross London (don’t ask), but you have to pay for it.  Of course.

Also, if you do have to travel to Shitholia where the ignorant savages don’t speak English, then a 5-star hotel is the best way to overcome that little hurdle.

Just my two cents.