SPY ROBERT HANSSEN'S TREACHERY EXTENDS TO SEX LIFE WITH WIFE

Why are you assuming his stories are not code ?

I thought freepers were keener thinkers than that.

Now here is where I wish we Jews were into proselytizing.

Well, what's keeping you from starting a trend?

HEY HANSSEN! HAVE ANY MORE? HOW ABOUT THOSE PHOTOS? I'll PUBLISH THEM? HAVE ANY DIRT ON REPUBLICANS? Your friend Larry.

See reply #60.

I think you've got something there. Start a tax exempt religious foundation for the Jewish conversion of strippers. Even if I don't get many converts, the drink minimum and the lap dances will be on the IRS.

When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's Plains

and the women come out to cut up what remains

Just roll to your rifle and blow out your brains

And go to your God like a Soldier.

is the correct text

On a tangential note, I recommend that anytime a mentally imbalanced criminal get out of prison on a shrink's recommendation, the perp splits his parole time between boarding with the shrink and boarding with his lawyer.

A very good idea!The people championing a release or a mitigation of ones sentence,must be made to shelter,employ and counsel inmates we all KNOW will be committing crimes again,once they are out.Ill bet we wouldnt be hearing"He had such a bad childhood!"again when these liberal,"release'em all"psychiatrists have to start dealing on a personal basis,some of the monsters they unleash back into society.

Hmmmm...you get it started, I'll be willing to be on the oversight committee...

Sounds like his legal team is laying the groundwork for an insanity plea, if it hasn't already submitted it. Sorry, but this sick puppy needs to be put to sleep.

Leave Ron Jeremy out of this.

"He's a good boy"tm

Oy!

I live in L.A., where "community policing" is all the rage among the ACLU and trial lawyers. Even though putting police and their family in high-crime communities puts them at risk of retribution from gangsters and their colleagues.

My answer?

Community lawyering.

I'm sorry, I don't understand your post. And all I wanted to do was make a little comment about Condit, he's a security risk imho and still working...

Hey, enough smut!

Get back over to the peanut butter thread.

It was only around four in the afternoon, and Bonnie still had plenty of time as she walked over and perched on the high wooden stool. She sat, freshly showered and still naked, in the warm light of the summer Chicago sun (newspaper? )which streamed through her apartment's(apt rental section?) large bedroom window to her left. Refreshed from her shower after teaching second grade at the parish school, it was time to fix her hair. This was her habit, her little ritual after a shower, a time to herself to unwind and feel feminine, a time to feel the air on her skin and fix herself all pretty for Bob. She was a good teacher. In a way it was like being an actress on stage each day, and Bonnie loved the little children too. People said she was the best lay teacher at Saint Anne's(drop?). She was even been better than some of the dedicated nuns teaching there. But Bonnie was no nun. She'd thought about it as a girl, but even the nuns agreed it was not her vocation. Bonnie wasn't the type to be locked up away from men. Bonnie looked gorgeous. But unlike some beautiful women, she saw only the "flaws." (description of data?) She had never felt secure (He didn't feel secure ?) about her appearance -- "too curvy," she'd say. She couldn't believe that so many men found her so attractive. Perhaps it was because she'd developed late and still couldn't shake the chubby/gawky adolescent image she'd had of herself from childhood, but Bonnie couldn't fully internalize a feeling of beauty. Oh, she knew intellectually that she was chubby and gawky no more, but somehow she couldn't internalize it as a feeling. She was always insecure about the way she looked and needed constant reassurance.(He was insecure and needed more $$$) While she'd never admit it even to herself, the attentions of men gave her that reassurance. She liked being the center of a male audience even than being the center of the children's. Still, she was married, and quite happily too, having mostly put her girlish flirting behind her. Well that was not exactly true. Bonnie periodically ran a few tests to check her flirting skills,(tests to see who might be on his trail ?) but now it was nothing serious. Happy today in her own modest little newly-wed's apartment, a relatively inexpensive one because it was next to the "El" tracks,(Description of how to decode data?) she was primping for Bob. She'd gotten married to Bob just last fall, and they'd moved to their first place together, a one-bedroom apartment on Winthrop Avenue on Chicago's north side. (Drop/meeting place ?) Bonnie looked in her mirror at her naked figure. She didn't like what she saw exactly. (didn't like $$, or meeting place) To her way of thinking she was too buxom, and she thought her hips too wide for her narrow waist and she was so "high waisted" compared to most girls. Still it seemed to work for men. Men called it being leggy. All it meant for Bonnie is that she could only wear petite sizes that never had quite enough room for her breasts, and she was always looking like she was about to pop out of her sundresses and so forth. Of course men never seemed to object to that look.

Bonnie ran a wide untangling comb through her long brown hair, thinking men had no taste. She wanted to be pencil skinny like those models in the women's fashion magazines. She looked more like those slutty buxom girls in "Playboy" magazine. But then she supposed men did go for that. After all the fraternity poll at college (??) had voted her best legs on campus. She felt she had good legs. At college, she'd found from experience that she loathed fraternities types generally. All they wanted to do was party and drink so they could feel-up girls and try to get in their pants. Bonnie detested it. She had even quit the most popular sorority on campus when they'd corrected her about still associating with her old friends(her=his) who hadn't been asked to join. Bob hadn't been at all like the fraternity types. She'd met him during the summer at the hospital where they'd both worked. She'd been attracted to him from the first because of the way he'd treated the patients and he to her, it turned out, for the same reason. Bonnie loved the afternoon sunlight. She was getting ready to go to dinner with her husband. Today was his birthday, and she wanted to look especially nice when he came home from school to pick her up. She wanted to surprise him.

Bob was a dental student. He'd just started the clinical portion of the program. He'd scored in the top two percent on his national Dental Boards, and Bonnie was proud of him. She was going to show him a good time. Bonnie knew that a good time meant letting Bob show her off. Bob loved having men's tongues dangle out looking at his wife. So tonight Bonnie had vowed to herself to make that happen. Bob was a leg man, Bonnie knew that, and Bonnie knew she had legs that could handle that. She'd learned shopping with him that no dress was too short. So, tonight Bonnie intended to do something she'd never allowed herself before, to push the limit in that direction -- to please him. She'd hunted for and found a secret weapon -- a dress, a special one for a special occasion. She'd found it in a store down on Rush Street. Bonnie was quite innocent and naive in many ways really, and had no idea it was a store catering to strippers. Bonnie hardly even knew about strippers. She'd just been out shopping and happened upon it and gone in. She was just amazed that a store carried so many sexy dresses. The dress Bonnie'd gotten was short. Well, you'd have to say it was indecently short. It was made of a stretchy lycra mix and was jet black. She thought, when she'd bought it, that she'd have to be a bit careful, for it tended to ride up and there wasn't much up remaining upon which to ride, that is, below her crotch. When she'd tried it on though, she knew Bob would love it. She'd promised herself she'd keep it tugged down for decency.

Bonnie was playing with her hair, trying it different ways. She tried it up, she tried it down, and was about to settle for up when she noticed an odd movement out on the elevated train tracks across the alley from her bedroom window. She looked out the window quickly. "My God!" she thought. There were five workers standing leaning on their shovels looking at her. In a panic, she bounded from her stool across the bed to try to grab the shade and pull it down. Because the bed stood only a foot below the window and along the wall, this move necessitated her standing stark naked (this might have a diff connotation to a spy) on the bed to reach up for the shade pull. She was there in full view of her suddenly bemused audience. Bonnie grasped the shade and pulled it down, with short-lived relief. The shade didn't catch and flapped up again. She sprung back a second time, her cute little bush (George Bush ?) fully exposed, and tried again. She yanked it down again and again it flapped open. Worse, this time instead the cord tied itself around the shade roller. Bonnie went up for it again. Bonnie's face was flushed. The men were looking right at her and she was totally naked. It seemed like forever while Bonnie stood in that window trying to untie it, but she got it. This time, a little calmer from the delay, she laughed at the smiles of her audience and closed it slowly and deliberately like putting the curtain down for them on a good show, and had even given them a little wave goodbye. Then Bonnie collapsed panting from the excitement on her bed. Her heart was pounding. She felt galvanized as if by electricity from the experience. She realized she felt something else too. She felt aroused. "If only Bob were here," she thought, I'd show him even a better time than the workers on those tracks. She tried to shake it off. It was a while, but Bonnie collected herself. Bonnie peeked out the shade. One of the men saw her and pointed her out, and she jumped back. She thought to herself, "Well that's it. I'll have to cover up." She went to her drawer and picked out a sheer black bra and delicate panties and slipped them on. She looked at herself in the mirror and was satisfied that at a distance no one would see more now than she'd showed at the beach on many occasions. Besides, she wasn't about to let some leering perverts ruin her reveries.

Bonnie pointedly didn't even look out the window when she opened the shade and resumed her perch on the stool. "Let them eat cake," she thought. She'd decided that she wouldn't even really look to see if they were watching her at all, but she did and she knew they were, but somehow she actually managed truly to push them out of her mind, even as she tried on her dress about a half an hour later and decided that the bra would not do under it. She'd just slid the dress off again when she glanced out and seen that she still had an audience. It was then that she slid the bra off, stripping herself of her bra in full view of the window knowing they were watching, before wiggling into the dress again. Bonnie was starting to enjoy this.

In her heels, Bonnie bent over to look at herself from the rear. She thought, "Opps." She told herself she would have to remember not to bend over like that, but then removed her panties too. Bob was going to get his money's worth tonight. Bonnie slipped her blazer over her tight dress. Well if flashy was the mode of the day, she'd made it. There was about a half inch of tight dress below the blazer. The rest of the image said she still had good legs especially in the heels. She looked again in the mirror and was pleased with the image. It spoke expensive-flashy not cheap-flashy, which was the effect she'd wanted. Using Bob's criteria she looked just right.

Bonnie glanced out the window. Her audience had departed. She figured, "Ah, for them dressed women are passe." Then she looked at her watch and thought, "or maybe even letchers don't work overtime." But, God she was turned on. Luckily Bob would be here any minute, and dinner was going to be a fun way to test her outfit. Bonnie was even starting to think that maybe dancing after would be fun too.

How about community correction?Expose PUSH,ACLU,etc.to the type of animals the "community"feels needs protection from the police.Allowing the people who are so worried about abuse of power,police brutality,and racism,to be locked up and guarding some of the people they want to protect,might give them a new perspective.

Don't you think it a bit odd that with Clinton & Condit CBS says "their sex lives are insignificant," but that CBS wants a roll in the "sexual secrets" of Robert Hansson? Wonder why his foibles are germane to the story, but not with the political elite and the power brokers?

how many terrorists did ROBERT HANSSEN'S put in our government?

We've left out parole boards.

I'd like them to be housed with their rehabilitation successes too

I'd also like news papers to make it a policy that when parolees commit heinous crimes, their names pics be posted side-by-side with pics the perps. They should be shamed.

Hanssen's religiosity is not all that rare, but it is rare that someone in a position of trust and responsibility would have it and still be allowed to exercise authority. Even in religious orders, those who show a gift for appreciating the practical in the conduct of daily affairs are more trusted and respected than those who carry devout religious habits into the realm of religiosity. I am surprised that Hanssen's FBI managers didn't pick up a whiff of the odd-ball about him.

Hanssen is a particular kind of Catholic, a kind I recognize all too well. His pathology is not all that rare among the devout.

"He's a good boy"tm

OK? I saw some story about him here this week. Never heard of him before.