Investigative Reporter David Hoffman
I recently made the acquaintance of journalist David Hoffman. He emailed me Friday:
Here are a few paragraphs from Hoffman's new book Murdergate! The Presidency, The U.S Government, and the Politics of Murder:
Crusading Against Sex Trafficking Over Lunch With David Hoffman
A Torah Jew arises early in the morning so that he can gather with his fellow Torah Jews of the male persuasion and praise the L-rd.
I was up at 6:30AM Sunday and at my computer preaching righteousness.
As for the slumbering goyim, lost in a moral torpor, they typically do not arise until late in the morning. Many of them are hung over from their meaningless partying the night before. Torah-less Jews act just like the goyim.
At 7:40AM, I packed my dirty laundry in a cardboard box and walked out to my car. Since I melted my ignition system two hours drive into Oregon last September, it's usually taken me about five turns of the ignition to finally fire up my beast. This morning was no exception, except by the sixth time, the battery didn't have any juice left. What's a Torah Jew to do?
I returned inside, worked on my computer fighting against Reform Judaism and the idolatries of the goyim, before trying my car again at 8:20AM. No luck.
I gathered my dirty laundry in a Rite-Aid trash bag and walked a humiliating five blocks to the coin-operated public laundry. I hope nobody saw me and thought I was a car-less Jew. I felt humiliated. I felt like a poor black man in South Africa.
Between loads, I returned home and emailed David Poland, a secular Jew who writes www.thehotbutton.com to see if I could come over to his place to watch the football. He said yes after he cleaned out his apartment of the super cool people (so I wouldn't embarrass him).
At 9:45AM, I try my car again. No luck. I'm tired and exhausted. I'm cranky. I'm spiritually out of whack because I have not made it in time to put on my tefillin for two days in a row. (Friday I was pre-occupied pointing out to everyone on my email list that I had the Steven Seagal - Anthony Pellicano story on lukeford.net ten days before the LA Times story.)
I have a headache. I collapse in my chair and draw comfort from a few minutes watching the dumb goyim slam into each other in the Miami vs San Diego game. I fold my washing and put it away.
I slip the third tape of David McCullough's biography of John Adams in my Walkman and walk to Kragens Auto Parts to buy a new battery. It's heavy. It takes twice as long to walk back lugging the battery on alternate hands, switching every 40-50 yards. This will be the first time I've tried to install my own battery.
I find I don't have any wrenches, except in my back from lugging the battery. I walk back to Kragens and buy some. It's now 11:30AM.
I lift the hood and try to loosen the bolts holding in my bad battery. I cut up my hands. I cover them in grease and rub the grease into the cuts. I rub it all on my shirt.
I start spraying 409 All Purpose Cleaner on the difficult bolts. I finally remove the old battery at 1:30PM. I install the new one in 15 minutes. I email David my apologies for not being able to grace him with my "Go Cowboys!" presence today. And I'm on my way to meet David Hoffman at Birds restaurant on Franklin, just west of Bronson in downtown Hollywood.
I arrive at 2:15PM. No David in sight. I'm annoyed. The restaurant is full of hot looking chicks but I'm tired, annoyed, and dirty. I leave a message on David's machine. I call back twice. No answer. I'm annoyed. It's 2:25PM.
I'm about to leave. I see a skinny guy with a triangular head wearing a leather jacket and cowboy boots. It's David. I want us to sit next to these eight hot chicks but David, in his infinite secular wisdom, decides on a lonely booth for two. He thinks I'm married. This block is crawling with hot, probably Gentile, chicks.
This block is crawling with hot, probably Gentile, chicks. I'm about to sit down with David when I see Emmanuelle Richard, of Emmanuelle.net, walking by. She's got some hot-looking red streaks in her hair.
I run outside and flag her down. She's with Billy, the wife of blogger Howard Owen, a regular commentator on the site of Emmanuelle's hubby Matt Welch (www.mattwelch.com).
I've got a bead on David. He can't fool me. He's like me. He said something most disturbing to me on Friday: "I want to run a shelter. I want to rescue women out of these Mafia-run brothels. It's a precarious situation. I'll probably get a bullet in my head in the first year but I'm willing to die if I can help a couple of these girls get out of some dingy cellar where they are being held against their will by guards and are being forced to have unprotected sex with 15 men a night."
Note the ease with which he dismisses his life. "I'll probably get a bullet in my head in the first year." Only single men speak this way. Married men, and women, put a far higher premium on their lives.
I quickly tell David that I can see right through him. There's a hole in his soul. He needs to start putting on tefillin every morning.
David has struggled with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome the past 17 years. I've struggled with it the past 14 years.
David got help from the Small Business Administration to set up his proposed porn business Eroticum.
David: "This guy was a retired Air Force colonel with a straight buzz cut. An old guy. Nice as hell. Helpful as could be. But a Christian. And this lady was a retired executive who lives out in the San Fernando Valley. These are wealth retired people who volunteer with the SBA to help people who want to become entrepreneurs. They did spreadsheets for me.
"It's not like an Orthodox synagogue. They may've blinked an eye but they still helped me. It's a professional thing. They want to help."
Luke: "You wayward apostate Jew, why won't you get up every morning and put on teffilin?"
David: "I'm agnostic."
Luke: "That's no excuse."
David: "I don't follow any dogma. I've seen what religion does."
Luke: "People must think you are weird."
David: "I have an English activist friend who says, 'David, I always knew you were a weird dude with both barrels loaded.'"
Luke: "You own a gun?"
David: "In Oklahoma, I owned two. I feared somebody was going to kill me because of my investigation of the Oklahoma bombing. They were killing people out there."
Luke: "Why didn't you bring them with you?"
David: "I sold them for the money. In LA, I don't need them. I've stopped doing investigative journalism of people like ESystems and my tires stopped getting slashed."
David's brother Eric is the head of the Space Department's Applied Physics lab at Johns Hopkins University. An MIT grad, Eric designs satellites. Eric and David grew up in Baltimore.
David: "Girls in Baltimore are great. They don't have attitudes. They're friendly. They'll f--- you at the drop of a hat."
David shows me articles about himself.
David: "This is from the anti-Semitic Spotlight magazine. They love me. They published a two-page article. Of course, they have to put their anti-Israel slant on what I say."
David Hoffman writes: "I'm reading your piece about Steven Seagal. I usually don't read gossip, preferring to live out my own endlessly dull, boring life, but I am getting sucked in. Who knows, pretty soon I'll be watching Springer. Which reminds me, I liked Sabrina Johnson so much (so attracted to her, she reminds me of my last girlfriend) that I wrote her a poem. I never gave it to her. Heard she was married. Sigh..."
Fighting Sexual Slavery One Woman At A Time
Skippy writes: "Is your friend a nut job? What is he complaining about again? Did he really think that he could waltz in without knowing any of the pertinant languages and "save" women? Tell him that the real frontier now is Iraq. They need some American Jew to come over and tell them how to live."
Fred writes: "Maybe he wants to put together an "underground railway" like they had in the civil war, to transport all the strumpets out of Eastern European slavery and into his hot tub."
July 3, 2007
I’ve often thought of devoting my life to sex trafficking but David Hoffman is the real deal.
I met David towards the end of 2002, just before he was to leave for Europe to sleep with beautiful women and rescue their oppressed sisters. I got him some work writing for my prestigious internet operations at prices ranging up to $100 a story.
"I thought I would settle in Budapest but it turned out to be a s— hole. You can smell the sewage. It’s awful. The girls are stunning. Every one of them. At every bus stop, I thought I was in a fashion show."
Luke: "You went there to combat sex trafficking."
David: "That never went off. I couldn’t speak Russian or Czech. They’re not going to let me near the girls because they don’t know me. I would be reduced to some menial task.
"On the date I was supposed to start the job, January 1, 2005, I came down violently ill and was ill for months."
Luke: "Did you get much writing done in Europe?"
David: "Luke, I don’t write anymore. When two separate publishers for Murdergate! The Presidency, The U.S Government, and the Politics of Murder failed to keep promise on their contract, I became discouraged about writing. I’d worked on that book for two solid years. I tried like a bitch to get it published."
I read Hoffman’s magnum opus. It accuses both president Bushes of arranging various sinister murders, leaving me depressed about our prospects for democracy and fulfillment in this fallen world.
Luke: "It sounds like you’ve been battling depression."
David: "No, my friend, I’ve been battling suicidal depression. I had an attempt in March of 2004 in Portland and then a serious attempt in December 2005 in Prague. I took 100 ten milligram valiums and 100 ten milligram ambiens and I washed it down with a bottle of whiskey. It should’ve been enough to kill a horse. I didn’t even close my eyes."
Luke: "What’s at the bottom of your depression?"
Luke: "What’s at the bottom of the loneliness?"
David: "Failed careers which produces lack of self-esteem. A man has to be active to feel self-esteem. Of course, I’m getting older and going bald."
David spent eight months in a Prague prison for firing tear gas canisters at a man outside his Prague apartment who was "f—ing with my electricity."
"When he refused to undo the damage, I opened up on him at point-blank range and I gave him the whole clip of eight shots. I didn’t do any damage to him, but he called the police. He’s the criminal but I was arrested."
"I was kept in a 250-year old prison that had been used by the Nazis and the Communists. Of course not many people speak English."
"They like to arrest black people there. They are very racist. Occasionally I would get a Nigerian or an Algerian who spoke English and we’d make friends. We were locked in our cells 23 hours a day. I would call it a form of low-level torture. I had two nervous breakdowns. I had to be hospitalized. I was kicked. I was slapped. I was laughed at."
Luke: "How has your life been since you returned to the United States [six months ago]?"
David: "I’m suffering from post-traumatic-stress-disorder. For the first four months, I had nightmares every night that I was being sliced by razor blades or put through a machine that would grind me up. I could feel the pain. The dreams have stopped but I’m going to have to see a psychologist."
"I’ve been moving from place to place. It’s been horrible. First I went to San Francisco but I found you can’t go home again. San Francisco has changed radically. They’ve got a new mayor who took away the welfare from the homeless people. This guy [Gavin Newsome] was like a Rudy Giuliani. San Francisco has developed a nasty edge and it depressed me."
"I moved to Massachusetts, which sucks. I’m leaving in Peabody, near Salem. It’s white-trashy. People are fat and disgusting. There are a lot of hispanics. They’re generally nice. They’re just disgusting."
Luke: "How are things with your parents?"
David: "They’re about 90. They have Alzheimers. Did you ever try to have a lasting and intelligent conversation with somebody with Alzheimers? It’s tricky. They’re still sending me money because of my [Chronic Fatigue Syndrome] disabilities."
Luke: "Are you allowed to live in the same state as your father?"
David: "My older brother wrote me in prison asking me to come home to Maryland to help take care of mom and dad. So I get home and say OK. I love my parents. And my brother said no way are you living here. We got into a big fight. I haven’t spoken to him in months.
"My dad said, ‘No way are you living in Maryland. I don’t even want you in the state [or he will cut off David’s trust fund].’ I was like, ‘Ohmigod, where’s the love? Where’s the caring?’
"I called Jewish Family Services to see if they would intervene. My dad hung up on them. I even went to a priest. My dad told him to go to hell."