I was the man; I kept my underpants on; I was there.
I am a camera.
I came; I saw; I …
Enough already! What matters is, in those days, if you didn’t know Trump and you didn’t know Epstein, you were a nobody — and Harvard University’s most famous emeritus has never been a nobody. The recent tragic, McCarthyite attempt to make me a nobody I spun around into major personal publicity.
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In those days I followed around pretty close to Epstein, yeah… Just watching! Totally keeping my underpants on, but always in a corner somewhere observing like Boswell to his uh Johnson and look don’t tell me Life of Samuel Johnson wouldn’t have been a shitload more readable if he’d had the kind of access I had to Jeffrey.
So just to get this series started: The Italian. THE ITALIAN. Since she’s already spilled the beans, I can add what I saw.
She was 21 then – way too old for Epstein, but maybe it was a slow day for him because just as she describes it her modeling agent sent her there she thought for work (not sex work) and she comes into the room – I’m in the corner reading Baby’s Bris and first it looks like he’s interviewing her and then he takes all his clothes off! He lies down on the massage table and hands her a vibrator! I’m being very quiet and wondering does he want to watch her use it on herself or is she supposed to… I don’t know… vibrate him? But these idle thoughts were suddenly interrupted when she takes the thing, looks kind of confused, and throws it at him!
In her account, she then blacks out for awhile and when she comes to she runs out of the room and out of the mansion… So what happened while she was blacked out was Epstein sighs, lowers the vibrator to the floor, grabs his cell phone and calls LARRY SUMMERS to make final arrangements about a Harvard science conference he was sponsoring on Pedophile Island! I had to admire the guy. From one to the other like that.
The Italian chick is gone, he’s finished the call, and here’s Epstein still buck naked but with an ex-erection. “Larry wants me to put my name on another institute at Harvard,” he said, “but I hesitate.”
“Why, Jeffrey?”
One of his fingers moved along his chiseled cheekbone.
“It makes me feel old.”