With friends like these, who the fuck needs cointelpro? I'm punch-drunk on the sickening cadence of iron-fists in velvet gloves. The Cheshire grins. The crippling Judas kiss to christen thee a sinking ship and the purpose of this new counter-intelligence endeavor is to expose, disrupt, misdirect, discredit or otherwise neutralize any parades that you can't jump in front of. Any long years of hard work that ain't yours. Sometimes I wonder if you just can't help yourself? Overhead bloodthirsty vultures circle patiently. They offer condolences (and whisper bitter eulogies). Yes, "comrades" come as thick as thieves. But you got another thing coming. With friends like these, who the fuck needs cointelpro?