Jeffrey Epstein’s Close Friend Told A Writer, Leland Nally, In 2019 That He Was “Very Sick,” Psychologically–Had Satyriasis; “Jeffrey Was Profoundly Sick”

Part 1. The Latest Catastrophe, Known As The Catastrophe Of The Leaked Birthday Card

I did not intend to spend another day trying to follow the Epstein-Trump-MSM-MAGA morality play, but I did.

Like a prisoner with a bowl of morning slop, I obligingly read about the alleged 50th birthday card from Trump to Epstein, reported in the WSJ, and read the words Trump either did or did not write. Next thing you know, I was trying to “understand,” what was “going on,” and what it all might mean.

To MSM, it was nothing short of the whale harpooning finale, almost with blood splashing onto screens.

Their amygdala driven excitations are more and more disturbing by the hour. Can’t they even feign being not quite so excited over a political kill? (It is the sum total of all previous kills thwarted—)

Watch this, for example: The dark, wet eyes, the frequency of the voice, so very un-news like, as Lawrence leads the new ritual incantation.

Here’s the text that apparently holds the power now to topple the Presidency, perhaps the nation, then the world.

I believe this is the long dreamed of “86,” Comey’s shells spelled out on that beach.

Huh?

Exceptionally inscrutable and impossible to “understand” except as a form of neo-American Monarch mind control, in which you’re supposed to glean horror from a cryptic text the President may have written to his then “pal” Jeffrey Epstein 22 years ago.

But first, one would have to de-encrypt it, no?

It does not sound like Trump, but who knows?

In any case, we know they were “friends” for 10 to 15 years.

But what is with this weirdly Faustian micro-play, with undertones and hints of some kind of vampiric youth elixir?

Weird if he wrote it, weird if he didn’t—no non menacing/threatening place to breathe. America’s life blood is: Continuous crisis over vanishingly small things blown to the size of the Grand Canyon by the media.

I don’t get it.

WSJ did not print the image itself, nor did they apparently possess a copy, but they “reviewed” it, and imply they are protecting their readership from its “bawdy” contents.

Countless Epstein victims, and a few rare advocates, were trying to get these people to break the silence around Epstein for decades. Now suddenly, they’re all over it. But they don’t clarify what exactly it is we are meant to be terminally shocked over. Journalism is becoming un-recognizeable; It feels like they actually are standing overhead with a large knife. They feel they are due a sacrifice and will demand it this time.

So—the story was based on a leak from the Justice Department. And the point of it is that Trump was “lewd” and “bawdy.”

This is not a nothing-burger, as everybody senses; It seems to me to be an everything OP. It’s full of an orgiastic spirit emanating from many corners, and way bigger than any sums of its parts. A freight train with no driver.

Disturbingly, this moment has been pre-programmed by the Masonic-Satanic Simpsons.

Meanwhile, normal people would like to see all hell break out, perhaps, around Alex Acosta, and 500 other people who kept the Epstein operation running smoothly since the 90s, as would happen in a normal culture.

Details here—remarkable interview, penetrating many ostensibles:

Part 2.

We’ve All Come To Look For America

I notice when I research this story, my soul goes gray; I feel like I’m in purgatory, with rat-water up to my waist.

Why then, do I?

I’m looking for something, as we all are.

I think I have been looking for, not the “what” but the “why?”

Why did they do it?

What, I wondered, was wrong with all these people—Epstein, Maxwell, all the procurers, madams, pilots, “scientists,” society people, media people…?

What made Jeffrey Epstein living dead? That was my question.

Smoking Guns

There is actually one very interesting writer who scaled the mountain top on this story, whose name never comes up. He cracked the essence of the story, then sort of disappeared.

I remembered him today, and looked up the piece that left such an impression on me when I first read it years ago.

Leland Nally.

Nally called every single number (2,000—) in the “little black book,” (which held Epstein’s and Maxwell’s combined contacts) and one of the people who answered—Stuart Pivar—gave him a stunning, poignant, at time unintentionally funny yet also deeply tragic rant.

In the rant, there are at last some answers— somebody actually addressing what was wrong with Jeffrey Epstein. This came from somebody who loved him as a friend, yet broke with him, in the end, in horror.

Epstein, it turns out, had “satyriasis,” the male version of nymphomania:

A few outtakes from the article, from Mother Jones, here.

Epstein was not a wizard. Studied Math With The Unabomber?

Pivar told Nally:

Read it here—it’s quite something.

But then.. Leland Nally wrote another one, a companion piece, in 2020, based on his astonishing feat of calling 2,000 people—the whole Epstein/Maxwell black book contact list, published in 2015—and it contained a true smoking gun, and a conclusion, that is a little Gatsby-esque.

First, the smoking gun—Epstein’s confession of the soul.

It came from a woman Nally calls Julie, who knew Epstein well, and asked him why he was the way he was. Epstein actually answered her; The answer was not lost on Leland Nally, though it was lost in the typhoon of Epstein commentary and coverage since 2019.

From Nally’s conclusion:

(Trauma warning for next screenshot.)

Nally summarizes:

How are monsters made—for they are made? They’re broken in, traumatized, de-sensitized, or maybe just denied love, in childhood, then deployed as military/espionage assets who can set an engineered plague upon an entire civilization, as Epstein apparently has done to us.

But it was Nally’s closing text, his own thoughts, that made me feel closest to “understanding” the Epstein tragedy.

It brings us back to the banality of evil, as well as the forbidding forces of social witchcraft.

There was nothing special about these people, Nally discovered, after those 2,000 phone calls, stretched over I don’t know how many weeks.

Stuart Pivar says it over and over. Epstein knew nothing about anything, including math, never mind science.

Nally wrote:

I Called Everyone In Jeffrey Epstein’s Little Black Book by Leland Nally, can be read here.

Leland Nally’s website is here.

Excuse a possibly wrong small bit of psychological guesswork:

I have always had the sense that Jeffrey Epstein had a void inside, so rapacious he had to build a system of industrial delivery of human girls in order to quell the anxiety from that void. That he had to make sure he was never ever alone.

In other words, he was the slave all along.

Outtake from Psychology Dictionary’s definition of Satyriasis:

From this article, about Satyriasis

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