Excuse me if I’m late to the pedo party, but the more I learn about Jeffrey Epstein, the more I don’t like him.
I get the revolt against Trump covering up Epstein. Sunlight is the best disinfectant right?
It’s easy to say release it all! Release Jeffrey’s client list! You should know that innocent people are on that list. God-fearing, tax-fearing yeshiva-supporting blokes who just hung out with Jeffrey for the tax tips and the science and the connections and the prestige. We’re not pedos. But we’re tainted now.
Blokes like me hung out with the Epsteins of the world for the social intercourse. The science intercourse. Not the sexual intercourse.
Jeffrey had this calm, clear way about him. I thought he was into Buddhism — a Jew-Bu? But turns out, it wasn’t Buddhism. It was just abundant post-nut clarity.
He was a bad man, but he was charming. He was always helping people. He had a smile that would light up a room. He was Google before Google. He connected all the movers and shakers. It was easy to be seduced. People saw what they wanted to see in Jeffrey. If he was clean enough for Bill Gates and Bill Clinton, who am I to judge?
It wasn’t called Lolita Island on the map. It said “Little St. James.” Which, in hindsight, sounds even creepier. The plane didn’t say “Lolita Express.” My ticket just said “Flight 26A.” I was reading the Federalist Papers the whole way—Madison, Hamilton. I swear, no pedos there, right? Founding Fathers were mostly clean.
But now I feel like I’m the victim here! People look at me like I’m Prince Andrew. I’m not Prince Andrew! I’m a simple Jew. I’m basically innocent.
I just thought Jeffrey was an ambitious Jew like Sammy Glick from “What Makes Sammy Run.” Apparently, what made Jeffrey run was illegal in 50 states.
Call me naive. I want to believe the best about my fellow Jews.
Recently, I used ChatGPT to analyze my YouTube transcripts for lack of self-awareness. The result came back: “Severe.” I’m officially the first man in history to have his self-awareness measured at negative six standard deviations. I’m not even on the bell curve—I’m off in Epstein territory.
Speaking of Epstein again—maybe I shouldn’t—but I’ve been to paradise, I’ve been to Lolita Island. But I’ve never been to me. And given what we know now, I’d prefer me. Even with my personality disorders.
I don’t have the energy to sin anymore. I’m 59. I like to chill and watch French Netflix films about schizophrenia.
Chevra, I’m not Epstein, I’m not Prince Andrew. I’m a simple Jew. I might have hung out with the morally dubious for excitement, written some questionable blog posts, but hey—I’m just intellectually alive.
Thanks for tuning in. Same time next week—unless I’m Epstein’d.
