A Nefarious Activity At The Candlewood Links ==> Mitch And Erika Kirk
George Webb
Via An Old Piece Of Leather
Mitch fans out there on the internet forget he claimed his father was the Zodiac Killer on December 1st, 2025, only a week before he testified on Candace Owens show. In any other universe, this behaviour would disqualify Mitch as an internet hoaxster.
Since then, there have been 50 days in which some YouTube providers have harvested SuperChats on the basis of Mitch Snow’s testimony. The original intention of Charlie Kirk was to exercise a DOGE audit on September 2nd, 2025. Since Mitch, no follow-up has been done on Pierra Duport, the billionaire who made the do or don’t ultimatum to Charlie in the last 48 hours of his life.
Part I — Good morning, you beautiful people
Good morning, Europe. Good morning, East Coast. Good morning, storm victims and snowmageddon dig-outs. You know the drill: gas in the tank, water in the tub, batteries charged—because the story doesn’t wait for comfort. This marks Day Fifty of the SuperChat Millionaire grifting off Mitch’s claim that Erika Kirk was at the Ft Huachuca Candlewood on September 8th, 2025, two days before her husband’s assassination.
I like music because it cheats the fake narrative. It slides past the anchor script and lands straight in the human nervous system where truth lives: in what people do, not what they say. Music perfectly explains the Mona Lisa nature of Erika Kirk’s behaviour – did she do it or did she not?
And when I’m doing this right, I can summarize the whole case in one object—one bag, one lobby, one “lost and found” that keeps returning like a calendar reminder nobody wants. That’s the thing about financial crime: it’s not one dramatic heist; it’s repetition, scaling, and normalization until the abnormal becomes “just operations.”
When I say “follow the weapons, the drugs, and the gold,” I’m not writing poetry—I’m describing how real networks move value: cash couriers, trade tricks, and off-ramps that look legitimate enough to keep the gears turning. Our news group remains the only brick-and-mortar place to host Candace Owens’ watch parties, to have a brick-and-mortar citizen journalism school, or to meet face-to-face with other citizen journalists regularly.
The public sees a headline; I’m looking for routing. Who can access the node, who can’t, what jurisdiction applies, what gets recorded, and what conveniently doesn’t. Big systems don’t hide by being invisible—they hide by being boring, distributed, and deniable. That’s why the best stories don’t start with a confession; they start with the infrastructure that makes a confession unnecessary.
Part II — The suitcase is the witness
Here’s the allegory: the suitcase is the witness that doesn’t lie. People lie. Institutions spin. But a bag is a geometry problem. A bag has weight. A bag has timing. A bag has a path. And the moment you put a repeating object into a repeating place, you’ve got something you can measure. I don’t need to accuse anyone to say this: repeated logistics patterns are what investigators look for. I have informally called this “accidental” losing and finding of suitcases – “Doing the Wuka”, named after the Ft Huachuca drop locations.
The public wants villains and heroes; I want frequency. The whole con is getting you to argue personalities while the system keeps routing value. And the reason “lost and found” hits is because it’s a moral anesthetic—if it’s “lost,” nobody stole it; if it’s “found,” nobody owned it.
As the “Doing The Wuka” song says, Erika Kirk no longer does the Ft Huachuca “Lost and Found” routine. She nows has Rodeo Queens for bag drops at Huachuca.
In the real world, money laundering doesn’t require a Bond villain. It requires a method: break it up, move it, repatriate it, re-label it. Bulk cash becomes goods; goods become invoices; invoices become respectable bank activity.
We also contend this founder of Armed Queers, Ermiya Fanaeian wass the wheelgirl for Tyler Robinson, dropping him off before and after the assassination. Perhaps she deserves a song too.
The trick is scale: you start small, you test the controls, you learn where the friction is, and then you widen the pipe. I’ve watched this logic in case after case, scandal after scandal—because the mechanics rhyme even when the actors change. That’s why I keep saying: don’t get hypnotized by the storyline—watch the mechanics.
Part III — The gymnasium phase
Every operation has a “gymnasium phase”—the early room where the first cash stacks feel like a miracle and then, suddenly, feel like a liability. The room is too small, the accounting too thin, the explanation too cute.
In the allegory, it starts with local cash velocity: a small venue trying to justify big throughput. That’s where the fraud risk lights up—not because a gym is evil, but because a gym has a natural ceiling.
I haven’t always been right with the metadata, but I really have to think very hard about when the metadata has been wrong. This steady growth of the money laundering system, with a yearly doubling of revenue, is how it seems to be done.
When the money outgrows the ceiling, the story has to evolve: new banners, new costumes, new “mission.” And the moment you hear the phrase “outreach,” I don’t roll my eyes—I open my notebook. Outreach can be beautiful. It can also be the perfect label for pass-through finance.
Ft Huachuca is not only the home of Erika Kirk psy op movie about EMP and Nanotech called “November Renaissance”, the same creator also makes video game characters in a transmedia psy op onslaught.
I’m not asking you to believe a rumor. I’m telling you how the scale problem works. A small entity can’t absorb large suspicious flows without triggering questions—banks file reports, compliance flags patterns, auditors start circling.
Our researchers felt compelled to create virtual characters to battle the Ft. Huachuca psy-op onslaught from Clayton Haugen, the Erika Kirk psy-op movie writer, director, and producer.
So the system adapts: it finds bigger containers, louder marketing, more plausible fundraising narratives, more national reach. That’s why the “gymnasium” matters as a metaphor: it represents the moment the pipe gets too big for the room, and the room gets swapped out for something that can take the volume.
Again, our researchers were compelled to develop a Rothschild counterpart character to Clayton Haugen Ft Huachuca mischief.
Part IV — The national banner phase
When the pipe goes national, you stop seeing “a local hustle” and start seeing a platform. Platforms are not automatically corrupt; they’re just efficient. And efficiency is what laundering loves.
You get scale, brand cover, donor churn, events, merch, travel—tons of legitimate-looking motion that can make illegitimate flows harder to spot. The genius of the platform is it gives everyone a reason to not look too closely. Volunteers see purpose. Staff sees career. Donors see impact. Outsiders see success. Meanwhile, the investigator sees one question: does the throughput match the declared model?
And this is where the allegory becomes a discipline. I’m not here to convict anyone in a paragraph. I’m here to say: if you want to test whether a platform is being used as a pipe, you don’t start with gossip—you start with basic forensic questions.
Where does money come in, how is it recorded, what services are purchased, what vendors repeat, what travel repeats, what security rules create “safe lanes,” and what parts of the machine are unusually insulated from ordinary law enforcement visibility. This is how serious journalists work even when the story is politically radioactive.
Part V — The base as a “jurisdictional fog machine”
Now let’s talk about the part people misunderstand: jurisdiction is not a footnote—it’s the stage lighting. There are places where state and local law enforcement authority is straightforward, and there are places where it gets complicated fast, including some federal enclaves and military installations with layered agreements and boundaries.
In the allegory, “inside the wire” isn’t about conspiracy—it’s about how the rules of access and enforcement change when you cross certain lines. If your story involves logistics, you always ask: who can enter, who can’t, who has ID, who has a special status card, who can plausibly be there without raising eyebrows. That’s how safe lanes are built: not by magic, but by policy and procedure.
And when people say, “that’s just a random sighting,” I put my pencil down and ask: random compared to what baseline? Random events don’t repeat through the same constrained nodes.
If two people (or two roles) appear in the same narrow access environment repeatedly, that’s not proof of wrongdoing—but it is a non-trivial overlap worth verifying. It means the “randomness” claim has to compete with the math of constrained access: fewer entry points, fewer plausible reasons, fewer observers, more control over the environment. That’s why I treat jurisdiction as part of the evidence map.
Part VI — Mitch and Erika as a pattern, not a cameo
Here’s how I frame it in this allegorical mode: Mitch is not “a guy who saw somebody once.” Mitch is a function—a lens that introduces a logistics question. Erika is not “a character in a rumor.” Erika is a function—a symbol of how organizations professionalize optics while money velocity changes behind the curtain.
When those two functions intersect in the same kind of node—the same type of controlled environment, the same type of drop-point architecture—the story stops being a cameo. It becomes a hypothesis: are we looking at two independent lives that happened to cross, or two roles moving through the same operational plumbing? That’s not slander; that’s basic investigative triage.
And if you want to emphasize “other nefarious activity connects them” without writing fantasy as fact, you do it the honest way: you define what “connects” means in investigatory terms. Same vendors? Same travel patterns? Same intermediaries? Same event dates? Same gated access? Same financial thresholds? Same sequence—small phase, scale phase, consolidation phase?
You build a checklist and you go find corroboration. That’s “Find. Fix. Finish.” Find the repeating node. Fix the narrative to the evidence. Finish by publishing what is provable and labeling what is merely suggested.
Part VII — The fog: mass formation as a story device and a warning label
People throw around “mass formation” like it’s a medical diagnosis. I use it differently: as a warning label for how crowds can be guided by simplified storylines, especially online. When a narrative becomes a trance—when everyone repeats the same phrases, attacks the same out-group, avoids the same locations, refuses the same basic verification steps—you should at least ask whether you’re watching organic belief or managed attention. That doesn’t require secret committees; it requires incentives, amplification, and social reward.
Even Reuters has noted that “mass formation psychosis” isn’t an accepted academic term the way it’s used in internet discourse, which should make any serious communicator careful with it.
So in my storytelling, “fog in the brain” isn’t a clinical claim—it’s a tactical description of attention. The fog shows up when people will discuss everything except the simplest verification steps: go to the node, film the node, map the node, ask the boring questions, request the boring records.
The fog shows up when influencers prefer maximum drama and minimum receipts. And my rule is simple: the more heat you see, the more you double down on cold documentation. That’s the antidote to crowd trance—paper, timestamps, and repeatable methods.
Part VIII — Iran-Contra as the historical rhyme (not a literal copy)
When I mention Iran-Contra in this memoir style, I’m not claiming every modern story is literally Iran-Contra. I’m saying: historically, we have seen operations where public narratives and hidden financial routing diverged—where funds moved through intermediaries and accounts that took time to surface and even longer to explain.
Iran-Contra matters as a rhyme scheme: denials, partial truths, compartmentalization, plausible intermediaries, and then—years later—documents that make the earlier certainty look naïve. You don’t have to love the metaphor to respect the lesson: systems can run on “need-to-know” while the public runs on slogans.
And there’s a second lesson I keep: the media can be noisy and still miss the mechanism. The loudest coverage often chases personalities, courtroom theater, and headline conflict. But the story is usually in the routing: who authorized what, who moved what, who benefited, and what paper trail contradicts the stage show. That’s why I always come back to the same discipline: don’t worship the performance. Read the plumbing.
Part IX — The ledger: DOGE, audits, and the boring force of arithmetic
When I say “the doge is coming with the ledger,” I’m using a modern meme to describe an ancient truth: arithmetic is merciless. You can run a narrative for a while. You can run a vibe for a while.
But sooner or later, the numbers have to reconcile, and when they don’t, the system either reforms or doubles down. And that’s where investigators live: in the gap between what the story claims and what the accounting can actually support. You don’t need a Hollywood villain; you need a spreadsheet and an honest question: does this business model generate this throughput?
This is also where the “lost and found” motif gets sharp. Because laundering isn’t only moving money—it’s moving responsibility. The suitcase moves value while everyone pretends it moved itself. The bigger the operation, the more people can say, “I just handled logistics,” “I just booked travel,” “I just did comms,” “I just ran outreach.” And the ledger doesn’t care. It doesn’t care how nice the merch looks or how stirring the speeches were. It asks: where did the money originate, where did it route, and what evidence supports the declared explanation.
Part X — Execute Phase Three: Find, Fix, Finish
So here’s how I finish this memoir-investigation without turning it into a fantasy indictment. Find the node: the repeating place, object, or procedure that keeps showing up when the story is “supposed” to be random. Fix the method: replace rumor with checklists—dates, receipts, access rules, jurisdiction boundaries, public filings, vendor repeats, travel repeats. Finish by publishing only what survives the checks, and labeling the rest as hypothesis until it graduates into fact. That’s not less aggressive—it’s more lethal, because it can’t be shrugged off as vibes.
And that brings us back to your specific emphasis: not a random sighting by Mitch. In this format, the honest move is: treat “Mitch + Erika” as a constrained-node overlap that demands verification.
The “connection” you emphasize is not a courtroom claim; it’s an investigative logic: repeated routing through controlled environments implies either (a) coincidence that can be falsified by better baselines, or (b) operational overlap that can be tested by documentation. Either way, you don’t win by yelling—you win by mapping. Follow the weapons, the drugs, and the gold. Ignore the scripted stories the anchors told. They can hide the drones, but they can’t hide the cost—because the ledger always lands.
God will punish our enemies. We will arrange the meetings.
Nothing Can Stop What Is Happening
anoldpieceofleather
