A former FBI Special Agent posts a warning. Releasing the Epstein files, he says, would unleash “a Pandora’s Box of national security threats and geopolitical ramifications unlike anything seen before in American history.” Pandora’s Box. The phrasing is deliberate. It’s meant to sound grave. A callback to a foundational myth—danger so great, so chaotic, even contemplating it is nigh unto suicide. As though what's inside the files is so destabilizing it'd endanger the republic.
But that assumes something millions of Americans, including me, no longer believe: the current order is worth protecting. Pandora’s Box? Fuck it. Bring on the dancing horses.* Because let’s be honest about where we are: systematic rape. Pedophiles. Power. Abuse.
It's already a circus. A haunted circus with more rings of hell than Dante’s Inferno. A vulgar, seamy carnival of power, money, and impunity. It's grotesque, predatory and corrupt at a scale so vast polite language feels obscene. We're talking about a network orbiting a man who trafficked underage girls to powerful men. About proximity between billionaires, politicians, financiers, media moguls—people who shape policy and markets and wars—and a convicted sex offender who moved through elite society like more than a favored guest—like a ringleader. Like the circus master.
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