By Shivani
It – the Nxivm beast – has several arms, including national and international sex-trafficking, ongoing slavery and still operational “schools” for young children, which serve up a neuro-linguistic stew and God knows what else.
Nick Clyne hasn’t changed her path either; only the logistics have had to shift. She has been and is still looking for fresh meat. Anyone who does genuine research of their own about Nicky Clyne can see that.
Nevertheless, some people are busy or unmotivated or whatever and do little or no research but still decide to try snapping at Frank Parlato.
It happens when he shares his research and experience and also protects his sources. And it happens when people decide that he is doing it “wrong” or that he isn’t doing it enough.
This doesn’t seem to be the most suitable sectional couch for resolving anybody’s propensities for or addiction to bitchfests.
There could be a 12-step program or an Amway convention to try on YouTube for that godawful dis-ease. The Secret Path of Bitchers and Moaners: 12 Goosesteps to Break you Free!!!
I hear that “you can just push a self-help button” and it’ll whistle for ya. No need to put down that bowl of Nacho Doritos or the Het Kapittel Watou.
Months before Ms. Nicki Thang even shifted her circus act to Brooklyn, the word was already out about her and her branding slave, the SOS/ D.O. Danielle Roberts and about Michele Hatchette, plus the one named LeBaron.
Word got out when the women started reappearing more often and more ostentatiously, while still nearer to Clifton Park. There is plenty more where that came from, and nobody needs to drop any prepositions to find it.
You wanna know something, get up and find it, find out how much more there always is to learn.
Nicki is far from the only still riding the Raniere snake, despite all of the warnings. Santa Claus has quite a list of pervs already assembled, and he’s packing big lumps of coal.
Meanwhile, right here on the spot, we have an investigative journalist and a whole lot more, a man who has been and still can navigate in, around and through the stinking Nxivm trenches. ”Some people call” (Frank) “the space cowboy, yeah. Some call (him) the gangster of love.”
Over time and with efforts, he has developed authentic sources who are willing to speak to him and to speak up for him against those who oppose what he does or how he does it.
Yet Frank Parlato is the championship journalist of this whole story, who has kept the exposure of Nxivm, Raniere, DOS, Salzman, Bronfman, Mack, etc., etc. alive and unforgotten, unforgettable.
It’s just one of those things with people, lots of complainin’ and unnecessary explaining. Who is too uptight for strong, sustained, conscious unity about working to take down a criminal enterprise?
Much thanks to Frank Parlato and his commenters for exposing a criminal group that harms people deliberately and “methodically,” including doing harm to those too young to be ready to defend themselves.
Those who are caught up in bitching and moaning are likely to finish the same way, superglued to sagging seats, still caught up in bitching and moaning.
I trust Frank and his work, with respect and trust built over time, long before starting to write comments at his place. He didn’t need to explain anything about how come he wrote some recent, pertinent truth about the whereabouts and behaviors of Nicky Clyne. Nope.
I hear Billie Holiday singing and how her voice could meander around every curve of a melody. Her inconclusive conclusions might vary with my conclusive inconclusivities, but I still love to hear her let go with “Don’t Explain,” even though Frank is still willing to keep on explaining.
Who’s on first? You mean right now, who’s on first? Or do you mean later, who’s on first?
Who gives a shit?
Parlato is pitching a no-hitter here. Nobody is on first.
