Radical Agenda S06E046 - Recovery Account
Radical Agenda

Radical Agenda S06E046 – Recovery Address

Written by SurrealPolitiks
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Christopher Cantwell's Radical Agenda
Christopher Cantwell's Radical Agenda
Radical Agenda S06E046 - Recovery Address
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When you have some glimpse of how ridiculous the people who claim to be running the show are, it becomes evident that there must be some kind of miracle at work for there to still be such a thing as America.

I recall during the Trump administration, some jack off penned an op ed saying something to the effect of “We are the steady state”, and a reasonable person could actually find some comfort in this concept. The idea that competent people were actually in charge and not the maniacs on television.

Well, I regret to disrupt any comfort you may have taken in this notion, but I’ll tell you a little story about the men behind the scenes that will put a stop to such fantasizing. They are not just malicious and corrupt, but also very fucking stupid.

 

I’ve got a history with an FBI agent by the name of Phil Christiana that spans more than a decade. In the year 2012, he tried to get a buddy of mine to wear a wire on me, and he was thoroughly embarrassed in the process.

Regular readers, don’t tune out thinking you’ve heard this story. I’m going to tell you something you almost certainly do not know, but I have to set the stage with some material you may find familiar. I promise you’ll find the familiar parts of the story entertaining even if you’ve heard it a hundred times.

 

FBI catches wind via Facebook rumors that I’ve been talking about violently overthrowing the government. Since I was a well known anarchist at the time (not today an anarchist, for those unfamiliar. Plenty well known, though), we can call this a credible allegation. But it was one rather exaggerated by my political enemies, and not even the rumors could be described as a plan. I thought there should be no government at the time, and that prior to this government ceasing to exist, violence would ensue. It was a theoretical matter, and I had not been at all shy about saying so in public.

To make sure I cut the crimethink, they went about a bit of an adventure that goes a little something like this…

 

They caught a heroin dealer,

let the heroin dealer go,

in order to catch….

a weed dealer.

 

Then they told the weed dealer he was going to spend the rest of his life in prison, unless he wore a wire into an activist gathering place in Keene, New Hampshire. This being the place where I was rumored to be discussing how the government would cease to exist.

 

Opiates, marijuana, activism. Yes, these are the priorities of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I shit you not.

 

This weed dealer, though I am not a client, and not big on his product as a general matter, is a friend of mine.  He says to the FBI he’ll take the offer under advisement if they’d be so kind to set him loose for the evening. They comply, and he promptly informs us of the scheme.

He tells us the name of this FBI agent who questioned him, is a fellow by the name of Phil Christiana.

To avoid the exposure of a public trial, the government made my friend a plea offer. Instead of facing 81 years in prison at trial, he could plead guilty and have no further penalty.

Not bad, considering they’ve got him on camera committing the crime over and over and over again, and he habitually confesses to this in public.

He told them where to shove it, went to trial, confessed to the offense, and told the jury they should acquit him anyway because drug laws in America are nonsense and the FBI are a bunch of criminals.

 

As you might expect, he was convicted on all counts, but not before making absolute fools of his persecutors. They hid from the cameras as they left the courthouse, it was an absolute circus.

In the end, he wound up doing a year in the Cheshire County Correctional Facility.

I’m under the impression the snitch heroin dealer, a fellow by the name of Richie Dupont, was murdered a few years later. A thing I lose little sleep over, if I’m honest.

 

You could say my friend had some misguided ideas, and on account of these made some poor decisions, but you gotta admire the balls…

 

Fast forward five years.

 

You might have heard I got into a bit of a scuffle in Virginia awhile back. I hear there’s a warrant out for my arrest, and I think maybe I ought to consult with an attorney before I visit a police station to turn myself in.

While I’m in the wind, I get a call on my prepaid cell phone from a man who introduces himself as Special Agent Phil Christiana of the Federal Bureau of Investigation out of Boston.

He says to me that he wants my help preventing violence at an event that is scheduled to soon take place in that city.

This sounds like a great idea to me. I’m all about preventing violence. I used to carry a gun for that very purpose. It had a very calming effect on aggressors and I really miss that part of being an American, in the good old days when that actually meant something.

I inform Agent Christiana of my most sincere desire to assist, but I have a small problem of a rumored arrest warrant that I need to clear up before I sit down with a law enforcement officer. I am of course inclined to solve this slight inconvenience as quickly as possible and meet with him promptly after, but it’s proving rather difficult to find an attorney because I’m all over the news as the mastermind of a racially motivated violent conspiracy, and very few attorneys are inclined to tarnish their hard earned reputation of defending rapists and pedophiles by associating themselves with a famous neo-Nazi.

Agent Christiana expresses his total surprise with this state of affairs, and offers to assist me by running my name through a database to confirm whether the rumors of the warrant are true. I thank him profusely for this service, we end the call, and I wait to hear back.

Sure enough, when he returns the call, he says I’m wanted by the University of Virginia Police, a thing he purports to only have discovered in his efforts to help me. He says I should promptly contact Sergeant Casey Acord of the University of Virginia Police to resolve this confusion.

I thank him for the advice, and say I’ll do this as soon as I’ve hired a lawyer and he consents.

Agent Christiana’s tone quickly changes. “Chris, you’ve just been informed by a law enforcement officer that there’s a warrant out for your arrest. You need to speak to the Sergeant, and turn yourself in right away.”

I politely decline this advice, far preferring the counsel of a defense attorney to a man who has called me unsolicited claiming to work for the government.

 

Being held without bail for the next 107 days, I was regrettably unable to make the appointment to assist Agent Christiana with his mission, but I am grateful that so few were murdered by Antifa in the years that followed.

 

In October of 2018, I man who I’ve never met, never spoken to, and have no connection to whatsoever, shoots up a synagogue in Pittsburgh while shouting “ALL JEWS MUST DIE”.

The man was fortunate to escape with his life, but was promptly apprehended by law enforcement. They really don’t like it when you go after Jewish people, and they solve those crimes VERY quickly.

To prevent this from occuring again, the FBI launches a full field investigation into yours truly. I come to find out through media reports some years later, that this surveillance was supposedly justified because I was under investigation for hate crimes conspiracy and RICO charges.

To this day, I’ve never even been questioned, much less charged, with anything of the sort. The FBI obviously knew this, because I had met with other agents in Virginia, and turned over to them my body camera video from the only thing even resembling this, along with a trove of other information proving – quite definitively – that it was Emily Gorcenski, Thomas Keenan, Thomas Massey, the operators of a website called ItsGoingDown.org, and other famous Left wing criminals, who had plotted and executed the crime that had occured.

They fully understood this and took no action because they are co-conspirators.

 

While this investigation is ongoing, I get a series of very troubling voicemails on my publicly listed telephone number. A man who is very clearly mentally ill says that he has committed some crimes and wants to be my friend in some capacity.

I still had Agent Christiana’s number in my phone from our chat in 2017, so I decide to leave him a voicemail. I say, in effect, “hey, some guy is calling me to confess to crimes, and I don’t want nobody to get hurt, so, maybe, since you’re all about preventing violence, you’ll want to have a look at this”.

Agent Christiana calls me back, and since New Hampshire law makes it a crime to record phone calls without notifying the other party, and I am a law abiding citizen, I inform this man that the call is in fact being recorded.

Agent Christiana says he does not consent to being recorded, and I tell him that if he would like to know about the crime that’s being confessed to, then he’s just going to have to tolerate me recording the call. He insists that he will not be recorded.

I say “What are you afraid you’re going to get caught? I’m trying to report a crime here. What’s wrong with you?”

“I do not consent to being recorded”

“Fine, give me your email address, I’ll send you the recordings”

[email protected]

So, I download the recordings from my Google Voice, send them to Agent Christiana, and he proceeds to do absolutely nothing with them.

 

In February of 2019, my website is defaced by a bunch of neo-Nazi criminals. Since Agent Christiana has proven less than helpful, I call a phone number on the FBI website that purports to be where you call to report a federal crime. I sit on hold for 45 minutes, and give up.

I use a form on the FBI’s website to report this crime. The FBI does nothing. No phone call. No email. No arrests. No badge at my door. Nothing.

 

In May of 2019, I report one of my many death threats to a detective at my local police department. This is a routine matter between he and I, so I have his email address so as to avoid troubling the 911 operator with my routine victimizations.

The detective notices that the volume of death threats I’m receiving seems to be exceeding the routine noise level, and invites me to meet with him at the station.

I am of course grateful for his assistance, and stop on by.

While I am in the office explaining that neo-Nazi terrorists and communist terrorists have become a rather persistent nuisance in my life, the FBI’s Joint Terror Task Force is in the parking lot, taking pictures of my car.

 

They have become quite fascinated with the hidden compartment I had underneath my trunk. It was held on by magnets, and I lacked total confidence in their ability to keep my Kel-Tel P3AT .380 ACP secured beneath the vehicle. So, I would check it from time to time, and this became a subject of some curiosity for the men watching the cameras that had been installed on the telephone poles outside my home.

But lacking any evidence of a crime, they could not get a warrant. So, they had to settle for taking pictures of the lock box while I was parked at the police station.

 

It warrants mention, perhaps, that I was at this time a concealed carry permit holder. Two firearms had been stolen from my glove compartment in the years prior. One the police found, on some criminal in another state. It was returned to me after a bit of fuss. The other, I have no idea.

The purpose of the compartment was not to conceal evidence of a crime, it was to keep my lawfully owned firearm out of the hands of criminals. If they had bothered to ask me about it, I’d have shown it to them.

The FBI had every reason to know this, but were very busy hunting anti-Semites, and were not about to let something so trivial as facts stand in the way of that mission.

 

The following month, a member of the group I had been repeatedly reporting to law enforcement makes the mistake of being identified by me. I tell him in no uncertain terms that he has made a very poor decision, and should give up his friends to save his ass.

He lies, and says he does not have identifying information about his friends. He goes on to make a thinly veiled threat against a woman I had asked to marry me, and I respond by making a remark about fucking his wife in the presence of his children.

I then publish identifying information about this criminal.

 

Lacking evidence of hate crimes conspiracies or RICO violations, the FBI pays this man a visit. They tell him that he will soon be visited by CNN if he does not comply with their demands, but since a very dangerous man has just threatened to rape his wife unless he provides this valuable thing that is another persons identity, they have victim assistance funds available to help him with his trauma, so long as he will testify to this crime he has not reported.

 

Long story short, I spend the next three years in prison.

 

A month before the FBI breaks down my door, I searched my inbox for my prior communication with [email protected] to check on a timeline.

When I do that, I see that this email address has a history longer than I was previously aware of.

Apparently, [email protected] has become the RECOVERY ADDRESS for pmchristiana@FBI.gov, as of August 29th, 2017.

You think I’m bullshitting you, but I’m not.

 

 

Clearly, what’s going on here, is some sort of mistake has been made while Agent Christiana is looking into the Virginia scuffle.

I am of course very busy dealing with other matters, and do not notice this at the time.

You think to yourself, well, okay… One mistake. Everybody makes one mistake…

How about two?

On March 23rd 2018, nearly seven months later, I get notified by Google that my DOJ – Federal Bureau of Invesatigation address, [email protected], has been created.

 

 

Don’t ask me how I missed this at the time, but I literally had no idea bout this until December of 2019. I have a very difficult time believing this would have escaped my attention.

On March 23rd 2018, I was on house arrest in Virginia over the aforementioned scuffle. A notice that I had a freshly minted FBI email address in the name of an FBI agent I had a six year history with, seems like it would have stood out.

But I was under a lot of stress at the time… Sum it up to me having a lot on my plate, or believe that Google hid this from me at the time and only made it visible the following year. It’s anybody’s guess.

 

Now, I’ve got my problems with the government, to be sure. But I actually don’t want my country to be attacked by terrorists. So it matters to me if the Terror Task Force is letting the people they are investigating know about it by sending them emails.

So, on December 29th, 2019, I send this email to Special Agent Phil Christiana, the Bedford, NH FBI field office, and my friend at the local police department. NOTIFYING THEM of this grievous error they have made, while trying to ruin my life.

 

Greetings Agent Christiana,

I trust you’ve been kept up to speed by your colleagues, so I don’t write to you today about current events. I’ve copied the Bedford office, and my local PD on this message, in case it might provide them with useful information, and I’ll be passing along the details to some private parties for the safe keeping of my own records.

I had reason to check the record of our communications, and when I searched my inbox for your email address, I came across something that gave me a good chuckle.

That is, until I realized that what I came across, might jeopardize a more meritorious investigation than those which have been launched into me.

Apparently when you were obtaining access to this Google account, I was getting email notifications about your activity. Fortunately for you, I was busy with other things, and fortunately for me, as you know, the Radical Agenda was the most interesting part of my life until pretty recently.

Hopefully you have already figured this out, and the bureau no longer notifies suspects in this way. But if not, you might want to talk to your friends at Google about this.

Do you mind if I disconnect you from this? I trust you’ve obtained whatever you need by now, and I stopped using this inbox for secure communications once Dino went after Moers’s expandable baton.

 

 

Phil’s not big on words, you might have gathered. He does not reply.

 

My reply came at about three O’Clock in the morning the following month, when the FBI broke my door down, and dragged me off to prison for allegedly threatening the criminal I’d been repeatedly reporting to them for the last two years.

 

And since you’re a reasonable person, you think, surely, they clean this up.

There’s no way, they continue doing this.

This is the Federal Fucking Bureau of Investigation for Christ’s sake. The Terror Task Force, of all fucking things. These are the people who are saving us from Al Qaeda! ISIS! Were it not for them, Nazis would have taken over the country by now and we’d all be raised in stable homes without junkies robbing our cars and there’d be no transgenderism in the public schools.

Perish the thought!

Thank God for them!

So there’s absolutely no fucking way, that after the guy they were investigating for hate crimes conspiracy and RICO violations, the man they would subsequently arrest and sent to prison for extortion, the man so dangerous he needed to be kept in a maximum security prison with Viktor Bout, notified them that he was receiving notifications from Google about being the RECOVERY EMAIL for their FBI.gov address, that they would allow this state of affairs to persist for another goddamn second.

Surely they would call the IT department, fire the stupid fuck who allowed this to happen, and hire someone who had gone to school for this sort of thing.

 

I regret to inform you, that you would be woefully incorrect.

 

So, I spend three years in prison. In the Communications Management Unit at the United States Penitentiary in Marion, Illinois. Apparently I am such a dangerous criminal, that I need to be placed in a maximum security prison and meet the likes of Viktor Bout, Matthew Hale, and Bill White along the way.

Great guys. I’m not complaining. It just seemed a bit much for telling some prick to fuck off on the Internet.

 

I get screwed out of my halfway house time on this stint, I get one month there, and on December 19th 2022, I get sprung.

 

This being December 7th 2023, I am approaching the joyous one year anniversary of this event. More to the point, it marks the halfway point of the 2 year Supervised Release portion of my sentence, which is basically federal probation. By statute, I have the right upon this halfway point to move the Court to terminate my supervision, provided there have been no problems during this period.

 

As it turns out, I stopped by a bar on my first night out of the halfway house. I had a couple of drinks, sang a song at karaoke. One of the conditions of my supervised release is, I’m not supposed to be drinking, but I just got out of fucking prison, so I figure this is a risk worth taking.

 

Some woman comes up to me at the bar, starts flirting with me. For a moment, I cannot believe my good fortune. My first night out of prison, and some girl already wants to fuck me?

Then she points to the man she purports to be her boyfriend, who is now taking pictures of us.

 

I make him for FBI, realize I’ve been caught. I tell my PO the next day. He says the FBI denies doing this, but if that’s true it begs the question who the fuck was taking pictures of me, because there is no goddamn way this was organic.

 

That’s a just a brief aside to say, there have been no other problems since. I took from this that the FBI is not leaving me alone anytime soon, and I’ve made them following me several times since. My life is very fucking boring, in part as a result of this. I do a podcast, I work out. I go to the grocery store once a week. Every now and then I have dinner with a married couple who have two beautiful children. That’s my entire life.

 

My life is so boring in fact, that my relationship with my probation officer is that I send him an email once a week on Tuesdays.

He does not reply.

Not even when I ask him questions.

I have to bug him if I have a problem, and he is hard to speak with because he has actual criminals to deal with. He is quite well aware that I am not doing anything wrong, so he considers my questions an unwarranted burden on his busy schedule.

 

On account of this I’m thinking it’s going to be a non-issue to get my supervised release terminated.

But I also thought the FBI was competent enough not to use my email as their recovery account, so, I fuck things up now and then and I’m man enough to admit this.

 

I get hold of the lawyer, he says he’ll draw up draft motion and check in with the PO. The PO tells him there are some outstanding issues, and the lawyer informs me of this.

I fire off a very hostile email to the PO. If there’s a problem, I need to know about it, and this guy won’t talk to me.

 

Trying to think of what could possibly be the matter, I decide to check on the timeline of events by searching my GMail inbox for the term FBI.

And what do I see when I do this?

On June 16th 2022, two and a half years after I’ve notified the FBI of this absurd mistake, and while I am still in prison for being foolish enough to ask them for help, [email protected] has signed in from a new Pixel 5, and since Google does not recognize this device as being associated with Agent Christiana, they promptly inform me of the possible breach, since I am, of course, the recovery email for [email protected].

 

 

So, being the obedient slave that I am, I once again aim to inform Agent Christiana of this persistent failure to maintain the security of his FBI.gov account.

On December 4th, 2023, I send the following email to [email protected];

Hey Phil,

I had cause to look through my email history for FBI communications and came across this notice from June of 2022 wherein I’m apparently the recovery email for your FBI.gov account. As you know, I was in prison at the time and this was no trouble to me, but that hardly seems sound, especially since I notified you of this in December of 2019.

I have a link to disavow the account, but I don’t want to interrupt whatever you’re doing with my email. I’m sure there are people in the Democrat Party who consider this very important.

I sure hope Google isn’t notifying other subjects of investigation that you’re doing this kind of stuff. There might be actual criminals out there who you should be investigating instead of doing political espionage, and I’d genuinely rather they not get away with their crimes.

 

 

If there is any good news in this story, it is that when I once again emailed Agent Christiana to inform him of this stubborn foolishness of his, the email bounced back to me. Apparently he has found other employment or something.

 

Among the many less fortunate things exposed here, is that the FBI used to use Google to handle their email. And though they later seem to have thought better of this, they now have Microsoft doing this.

So, good news for China I guess, but not for you.

 

Now, I’m as bothered by all of this as any reasonable person would be.

Maybe Phil got shitcanned for wasting a decade on me, and demonstrating his incompetence further with this repeated technological embarrassment. Maybe this is no longer an issue.

Or maybe these fucking retards are informing ISIS that they are reading their emails, and allowing Al Qaeda to do password resets on FBI.gov accounts.

 

I have no idea which, but it seems to me that some responsible party ought to understand this.

 

So, I email all of this information to my probation officer, with the subject line “You may wish to inform your associates at the FBI.”

 

He does not reply to me… Par for the course.

 

I get a call from the lawyer, who has now spoken to the PO again.

He asks me…

You’re not going to fucking believe this, but I’m serious…

He asks me, if I’m trying to sabotage the motion…

By sending my PO crazy emails about the FBI.

 

Crazy indeed…

 

 

Now, if I’m fucking nuts, do inform me and I’ll consider it a relief.

Nothing would make me happier than to find out this was all some fucking malfunction in my brain.

Lock me in a rubber room,

drug me,

put me in a straight jacket,

Just please let me know that the United States Government has more competent people working for them than this.

Let me know that there is JUST ONE RESPONSIBLE PERSON in the entire fucking apparatus!

 

Elected officials, bureaucrats, deep state, steady state, Jews, Trilateral Commission, Bilderberg, I really don’t care who it is. I barely even give a fuck if they are malicious or have my interests at heart.

At this point, I’ll settle for the knowledge that some evil mastermind is at least interested in his own survival enough to prevent this whole goddamn continent from going up in a mushroom cloud.

 

But I have my doubts any such reassurance will be forthcoming.

And that troubles me more than anything I’ve seen about their malice and criminality, of which there are many horrific volumes.

 

 

 

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