The Lessons I Learned As An International Spy

The Venetian Macao: A World of Opulent Decadence

As I entered the Venetian Macao, I was instantly assailed by montage of images and a cacophony of sounds; the clickity clacks of an ivory ball orbiting the roulette wheel at high speed, then slower until the wheel comes to rest – clickity, clack, clickity… clack…. clickity…… clack – the patrons cashed all-in on a number with tense expectations; I hear the whirl of spinning reels and metallic coins being dropped into one armed-bandits making loud beeps and chimes, “Cha-ching-ching-ching-a-ling” – sucking away the life savings of the innumerable people addicted to false hope turned bitter.

I heard the screams of a few occasional outliers overjoyed by their dumb luck – like forty-year-old virgins being told ‘yes’ by a woman as the one-armed thief lets out loud beeps & chimes, a loud bell of victory followed by jangly music as a flood of coins fell out; and the incels of financial freedom investing back their ‘all’ into the only bandit that gave them a return, only to return all their winnings back – along with all their personal reserves to the one-armed liars.

Only politicians are more adept at doing this to the people they have promised to ‘serve’.

I see the innumerable people milling about – the Crème de la Crème of different cultures & nations too numerable to list; Monarchs, Princes & Princesses, Dukes, Counts, Barons, Sultans, Dictators, Presidents, Prime Ministers, and other ‘Head-of-States’ with their escorts; many of whom were on the Bilderberg’s “Who’s Who List’.

I observed some of the ruling classes were garbed in expensive Western attire of tuxes-n-tails, finely-tailored Italian suits, while the other oligarchs moved about in the former attire that bespoke of their culture & status. I see groups of Arabic men walking close together holding hands, as they maintain direct eye-contact while they converse quietly like conspirators, they are wearing ghutras and their long flowing bishits made of fine wool; I see various Dictators from around the world wearing formal military dress uniforms replete with medals and ribbons as they walked about with an air of manly reserve like those comfortable of command; I see Royalty from several countries in Africa clustered together in a group as they hobnobbed – the melanin count varied among them from light mahogany to dark obsidian; most of them are gloriously resplendent in a variety of regal attire – an array of vibrant colors of the rainbow adorned with symbolic designs & embellishments. A number of these men reflexively flicking horse-haired fly swatters – though there was not a fly in the joint.

Suddenly, I see an extremely tall man with dark ebony skin coming towards this group in long strides as he addresses them with an exuberant greeting. They seemed delighted to see him. He towers over the entire group. His handsome face displayed high cheekbones and sharp angles; he smiled at them showing a set of perfect & impossibly white teeth – the nightmare of any dentist who routinely relies on dental imperfections to pay for a crushing mortgage & overextended lifestyle. His black obsidian eyes burn with unusual intelligence and his bearing is that of a poet-warrior prince. I am not a man who is easily impressed, even from across the room I could feel the almost overpowering weight of his charisma.

I see hundreds of variations of such men & women, and throughout the casino surrounding these elites, I see groups of people flitting around them; they are the human equivalents of Oxpeckers, Plovers, Remoras and Pilot Fish, Skin Mites, Botflies, Tapeworms…. yearning to feed off the scraps & refuse of the global Elite”. I bore witness to every sort of symbiotic relationship – mutualism, commensalism, parasitism.

I observed heads of multinational corporations and their lobbyists intermingling as they schmoozed politicians for favors & vice versa; I beheld the heads of big Pharma & Monsanto walking arm-n-arm; I was an eyewitness to a few leaders of U.S. manufactures of weapons conversing & laughing with black market arms dealers – their liaisons to act as go-betweens with various Dictators, Warlords & known Terrorists.  

I see greedy loan sharks from the World Bank – no doubt offering the leaders of third world countries massive loans at usuries rates – that would appall a Sicilian loan shark – designed to bankrupt governments – keeping them enslaved forever; I see the heads of government endorsed NGOs from every corner of the globe hired to serve the secret agendas by those in power of their native country, as they skim off funds as promised to assorted people and deposited into untold offshore shell companies.

None of this surprises me. Since time immemorial the elite has always come to such places with nothing more in mind than to simply indulge in gambling and other forms of entertainment; There are so many of them, it’s inevitable they’d run into each other, and sometimes they engage in discussions of mutual benefits – just like many businessmen will gather together on a golf course to indulge in both business & pleasure while they work on their handicaps in both realms.

It was astounding to see innumerable cultures and nations around the world milling about as they gambled away the tax dollars paid by their citizens and graft money awarded them by special interests.

The sounds of the multitude of foreign accents talking at once was intoxicating as I am also aware many of these players were part of the cycle of life & death of economies and social engineering within their countries of origin, and part of this cycle around the globe. Birth, growth, decay, death and rebirth.

All of this was enthralling, and I felt like the luckiest man on earth to be not just an observer, but one of the players as I made my round seeking out Carlos ‘The Jackal’. And to think, as a young man, my family had pressured me into working for an uncle in the challenging and ever-growing business of selling bedpans.

Suddenly, I heard a thin tenor voice in a breathy southern accent, “Hey ya’all have any Jalapeno burgers around here? I’d jus love a few of those if ya’all could git me some.”

I recognize him as none other than the leading legislator – code name: ‘Slick Willy’ from the deep south within the U.S. He stands at 6’2”, thick black hair expensively cut, about 37 years old – he looks a lot younger – more like grad-student than a rising star in U.S. politics. He has been scarfing down hors d’oeuvres from the casino cocktail waitresses that habitually make their rounds – like a greedy pig feeding at a trough while he is throwing back Alabama slammers like a frat boy at a Crimson Tide tailgater.

His diminutive attractive wife is nowhere to be seen, which is why, I supposed he was relentlessly hound dogging every woman who walked by him. “Hey there sugarplum, what are you doing after work?” She smiles politely, “Working”, and quickly scuttles away. Another waitress comes by with more appetizers, he immediately grabs a handful, “Say cupcake, you look as tasty as a bowl of grits.” He relented with another half dozen cocktail waitresses, using mostly food metaphors. None of them worked, but he did not let that stop him.

He continues to toss back the slammers like a thirsty man crossing the Sahara – which was no mean feat considering they contain 18% alcohol.

He is desperately looking around for another waitress and food. “I’m gittin mighty peckish; I gotta find me some serious grub”.

‘Slick Willy’ wanders off….

4/13/2025