Go Rogue with Me

Well, sir, ever since I learned of its existence I’ve wanted to join the Deep State. I’m sure you’ll find everything in order on my application. Experience in the field? Check! In fact, I’m currently working undercover as a member of a swim team. My mission is to hide in the deep end and spy on other swimmers from below. I bet you didn’t know that the older you get, the more flaccid your flesh becomes, even if you’re super strong and fit. True fact! I lie on my back at the bottom of the pool, gazing in horror at curtains of loose skin flapping around tight quadriceps like the jowls of a toothless old man as he chews. That’s but one example of the caliber of intel you can expect from Agent Martinovic.

Special qualifications? I’m proud to report that I have Mars conjunct Sagittarius, which means I’m a hard-driving hard ass who gets shit done. I wouldn’t be surprised if Dick Cheney has this very same conjunction— and look how far it got him! No sir, I’m not joking. I think the Deep State would want an insider who has her finger on the pulse of alternative subcultures. No offense, sir, but because of your irrational prejudice, you couldn’t possibly know that after being hemmed in by Saturn for all of 2017, the ringed planet has finally moved off Donald Trump’s chart. And you know what that means.

No?

Saturn — hello! — principle of constraint. Meaning no disrespect, sir, but, wake up and smell the rising sign! And the actionable intelligence…

I’m going to overlook your ignorance because right now my country needs me — and my linguistic skills par excellence. That’s French for “I’m brilliant.” You’ll never find a better field agent to send on sensitive international missions. And as for getting to the bottom of this whole Russia debacle, I’ll cut to the chase:  Stahve u tvoy guzitsu, govno glavu! You may not know what that means, but I can confirm there are certain White House operatives who do.

But don’t worry, sir, I’ve got one set of skills that needs no translation.  You see, in some circles I’m known as a bit of a femme fatale, a Mata Hari if you will. My powers over men are legendary and, of course, classified. But I do have clearance to tell you that I lure hostile agents into my boudoir and make them give me full body massages until their hands cramp.  Good thing the Deep State gets to define torture, eh, sir?

Of course, my lair hasn’t seen a lover in some time. Perhaps word of my technique got out. Rest assured, sir, under my watch leaks of this magnitude will be a thing of the past.

What role do I envision for myself? Oh, I’ve done my research. When you were a little boy in suburban Maryland wasn’t there a grumpy old man trying to keep you from playing on his perfect lawn? Well sir, I’d like to be the Deep State’s grumpy old man. I’ll keep the terrorists off our nation’s lawn, by God.

And by terrorists I mean alt-right, neo-nazi, Breitbart-spewing haters. I mean climate change deniers, fake news peddlers, frackers, and corporate malefactors. I mean the one-percenters sucking the rest of us dry, and yes, I mean the president himself.

Are you with me sir?

I realize this comes as a bit of a shock, but… there’s something stronger and deeper than the Deep State. The Resistance is calling.

Go rogue with me, sir.

Or would you rather be giving me a massage?

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