Thread: Kathleen Willey Thanks Donald Trump for Highlighting Bill Clinton’s History with Wome

EXCLUSIVE–Kathleen Willey Thanks Donald Trump for Highlighting Bill Clinton’s History with Women, Urges More Victims to Come Forward
Michael Smith/Newsmakers

by BREITBART NEWS
10 Jan 2016

Kathleen Willey, one of the women who famouslyaccused Bill Clinton of sexual assault, and has said she suffered acts of intimidation to silence her, used a radio interview on Sunday to broadcast a message to other possible female victims of Bill Clinton.

Stated Willey:

I would just like to encourage any woman who has suffered at the hands of Bill Clinton to please try to find the courage and bravery to come forth. Because it’s okay now. Nobody can hurt you now. It’s as simple as that.

Nobody can touch you now. The word is out. You will be okay but you will be doing the right thing for all the right reasons and you will be helping your fellow sisters.

Speaking on “Aaron Klein Investigative Radio,” the popular Sunday talk radio program, Willey demanded that Hillary Clinton submit to a lie detector test to answer questions about whether she engaged in campaigns to silence or intimidate her husband’s female accusers. Klein doubles as Breitbart’s Jerusalem bureau chief.

Willey also telegraphed a message of encouragement for Donald Trump, who helped to skyrocket the issue of Clinton’s sex accusers to front-page status when the GOP frontrunner complained about the former president’s “terrible record of women abuse.” Trump was responding to Hillary’s claim that the billionaire exhibited a “penchant for sexism.”

“If Hillary thinks she can unleash her husband, with his terrible record of women abuse, while playing the women’s card on me, she’s wrong!” tweeted Trump.

Willey chimed in: “Thank you very much, Mr. Trump, for asking the right question at the right time. And please keep asking more.”

When Klein petitioned Willey to list the questions that Trump should ask, she replied:

I think the next question he should ask Hillary is: “Mrs. Clinton, is it okay with you that your husband flies around in private jets with a convicted pedophile to a private island called ‘Orgy Island’ and be entertained by underage girls? The real word for that is pedophilia and human trafficking. Is that okay with you?”

Willey was referring to Clinton’s association with billionaire Jeffrey Epstein, who served eighteen months in prison after being convicted of soliciting an underage girl for prostitution.

The Daily Mail reported in May–and MSNBC’s Joe Scarborough predicted this past Friday–that Epstein could become an issue for Hillary Clinton’s campaign:

Epstein’s reemergence in public view – he was last photographed in February 2011 – will cause new headaches for Hillary Clinton’s message-challenged presidential campaign, and give her critics another opening to tar and feather her with scandal.

Her husband, former US president Bill Clinton, has been associated with Epstein in the past – even traveling with him 10 times aboard his private aircraft, dubbed the “Lolita Express.”

Some of those trips included stops at Epstein’s private Caribbean compound that later became known as “orgy island.”

Since Clinton announced her presidential campaign in April, Willey has spoken out in numerous exclusive interviews on Klein’s show. In her latest interview on Sunday, Willey explained why she is motivated to talk publicly.

My mission here is to educate. What I would like to be able to do is talk to college students who don’t know about what happened. Explain it to them. And make them understand what exactly happened back then. And then let them know all of the horrible, horrific, terrorizing details of what his wife did to his victims. That’s the story here. That’s the story… Instead of using that whole thing and feeling betrayed by it, she used it all as a political opportunity.
You try to explain to people the consequences of what happens to these women when Hillary Clinton goes on the attack. It’s another woman who claims to be a woman’s advocate attacking these women. I mean, this woman absolutely terrified me. And I don’t get afraid easily. I’m pretty independent.

‘Campaign of intimidation’
Willey detailed numerous instances of what she says was a campaign aimed at intimidating her into silence before she could give a deposition in the Paula Jones sexual harassment lawsuit that threatened Bill Clinton’s presidency.

But I mean, cats went missing. My wonderful German Shepherd–big girl, never left my side. Disappeared into clear air for three days. I mean, I was absolutely panicked trying to find her… and three days later she just reappears…

I came home and found a beautiful, one-year old healthy cat dead on the deck of my house, and the only way to get to my deck of my house is through my house. It has no access to the yard.

I mean, I found a man in the middle of the night at the door of my walkout basement. I opened my car door, my tires were all slashed. Somebody found the car, found me, and flattened three tires with a nail gun.

I opened up my car door one day and there was an unidentified, strange cell phone sitting right in the driver’s seat.

Willey has also said that she received threats against herself and against her children by name.

She recalled that late English author Christopher Hitchens filed an affidavit against his former longtime friend, Clinton aide Sidney Blumenthal, detailing the contents of a lunch conversation in which Blumenthal indicated there was a campaign afoot to smear Willey.

Hitchens wrote about that lunch talk and his affidavit in an April 30, 1999 Vanity Fairarticle titled, “I’ll Never Eat Lunch in this Town Again.”

Hitchens related his conversation with Blumenthal and why he came to believe Willey’s allegations of intimidation.
He recounted that the meal took place right after Willey had gone public on 60 Minuteswith her sexual assault accusation against Clinton.

Hitchens wrote:

And what impressed me most at the time, and depressed me, too, was the tone of voice Sidney used in discussing this. “Yeah, her poll numbers are high now, but they’ll be down by the end of the week. You’ll see.” There was a sort of “We’ll take care of her” tone that I didn’t like, and Carol and I couldn’t look at each other.

However, as time went by, the significance of the conversation metamorphosed. I became convinced that, a few weeks before the lunch, Kathleen Willey had been threatened in person, had received threats against her children by name, and earlier had had her car brutally vandalized.

I discovered that, within days of the lunch, she received a telephone call from a private detective named Jared Stern. Hired to invigilate her, he had sickened of his work and decided to give her an anonymous call warning her that she had influential enemies. It also appeared that Ms. Willey had been subjected to pressure by a politically connected tycoon named Nathan Landow, whom I knew by reputation as one of the less decorative members of Clinton’s soft-money world. (Asked by the grand jury whether he spoke to Ms. Willey about her testimony in the Paula Jones lawsuit on his own behalf or on the president’s, Mr. Landow has taken the Fifth Amendment.)

I refuse to believe for a second that Sidney knew anything about this, but in the week that we talked, the White House “found” and released Ms. Willey’s correspondence with Clinton. I say “found” because when these same letters had been subpoenaed in the Jones case in January 1998, they couldn’t be located anywhere. Just another day in Clinton’s Washington.

Speaking to Klein, Willey demanded that Hillary Clinton take a lie detector test to answer for what she says the former First Lady did to her and other women.

“I would like to challenge Hillary Clinton to take a lie detector test,” stated Willey. “And I would also like to challenge her to stand before her daughter and her granddaughter and explain why she will or will not take a lie detector test.
“And I would also like to add that I took one. And I volunteered to take one. I drove to Washington and it was administered by the top polygraph expert in the country at the FBI Headquarters and I passed it.”

Breitbart’s Klein has been spotlighted by the news media in recent days for exclusively interviewing Bill Clinton’s famous sex accusers, including Juanita Broaddrick, Paula Jones, and Willey.

Gennifer Flowers, who had consensual relations with Clinton, also warned about a Hillary presidency on Klein’s show.

The interviews helped to spark the current debate about Bill’s alleged female victims, a topic that has engulfed Hillary’s frontrunning campaign.

The Washington Post on Thursday cited a Breitbart article in which Klein described how his radio program had become “a support center of sorts” for Bill Clinton’s female accusers — “a safe-space for these women to sound off about the way they were allegedly treated by both Bill and Hillary.”

http://www.breitbart.com/2016-presidential-race/2016/01/10/exclusive-kathleen-willey-urges-clinton-sex-victims-to-break-silence-nobody-can-touch-you-now/

The above mentioned Christopher Hitchens article;

Christopher Hitchens

I’LL NEVER EAT LUNCH IN THIS TOWN AGAIN

When the author filed an affidavit testifying that his old friend White House aide Sidney Blumenthal had repeated the president’s smears about Monica Lewinsky—thereby giving the lie to Clinton’s denial of such tactics—the author was denounced by those around him. He tells why he could not have done otherwise.
BY

• CHRISTOPHER HITCHENS

MAY 1999

If you care to consult the Congressional Record of the Senate trial of Bill Clinton—the only impeachment trial ever held of a sitting and elected American president—you will find that the last item of business is the entering of three affidavits into the official account. One of these was sworn by me, one by my wife, Carol Blue, and one (witnessing only to the fact that we had not made up our story on the spot) by Scott Armstrong, the Senate Watergate investigator who discovered the Nixon tapes and later collaborated with Woodward and Bernstein. As the trial ended and CNN went straight to worldwide, the first features blazoned on the screen were my own—obscured (the features, I mean, not the screen) by an ill-advised new beard, which made me look like Rasputin or the Unabomber. A Clinton witness—Mr. Clinton chose not to appear at his own trial— had said that the White House staff had never done anything to spread the president’s famous and desperate smear of Monica Lewinsky as a stalker and blackmailer. I had a strongly contrasting impression and had decided, whether asked by a voter or a reader or indeed by the House Judiciary Committee, not to keep it to myself.

If there was a lack of proportion here, it certainly didn’t escape me. It astonishes me more in retrospect than it did even then. All I had done, in essence, was repeat a true story to which I had put my name, in print and in person, many times. But in the deranged atmosphere of Clinton’s Washington (a culture of lies that I believe will one day be remembered with whistles and groans of shame) the most anecdotal truth, told by a most seemingly negligible individual, was enough by itself to precipitate a minor crisis. The Clinton trial was intended to move gravely toward a predetermined and reassuring conclusion. In Hilaire Belloc’s words, “The stocks were sold; the press was squared; the middle class was quite prepared.”

I'd like to say that my derailment of a dishonest consensus was a proud moment in my life, and reminded me why I had become a journalist in the first place. But I’ll never quite be able to do that. The person whose dirty job it was to give Clintonian answers was an old friend of mine. I could give the lie to Clinton only by publicly disagreeing with this same friend, whose name is Sidney Blumenthal. As a result, the small matter of my testimony was engulfed by a subplot about treason, loyalty, journalistic etiquette, and the placement for Georgetown dinner parties. Christopher Buckley, the best novelist of Washington life, appeared to strain for effect when he described in The Washington Post the ensuing froth as the equivalent for our crowd of the Alger Hiss-Whittaker Chambers moment. Concerning the actual stakes, this seemed (and seems) a heroic exaggeration. But concerning mentalities and attitudes, it didn’t. As it happened, Sidney Blumenthal and I had written long and contrasting reviews of Sam Tanenhaus’s tremendous biography of Whittaker Chambers. I liked it a bit more than he did. As it happened, I had once received extensive and absurd over-praise from Alger Hiss. As it happened, Christopher Buckley’s father, the forbidding William F. (whose biography is now being written by Sam Tanenhaus), had ignored the advice of Whittaker Chambers, who had implored him never to get involved with the hysterical wickedness of Senator Joseph McCarthy. As it happened, the confusion about that bit of history had put an enduring question mark over anyone who can be described as a “snitch,” or a traitor, or a “friendly witness” before a hostile Congress.

ALL THE PRESIDENT’S MEN

White House aide Sidney Blumenthal testifies for the defense during the Senate impeachment trial, February 3, 1999.

Believe me when I say that I knew all that going in. During the next few days, I was to see that the word “snitch” can be made to rhyme with Hitch. I think Geraldo Rivera was the first to make anything of it; anyway, the joke got a good workout. Indeed, only a couple of weeks after Rivera first got his laugh, Maureen Dowd recycled the gag in her waning New York Times column. (This is the same Ms. Dowd, by the way, who gave away the whereabouts of Salman Rushdie while he was staying in my apartment in the fall of 1993—a time when, if I was a really keen rat, I could have made myself some serious reward money.) A snitch, if you think about it, is supposed to be motivated by malice, cynical selfpreservation, or hope of gain. You become a snitch by dropping an anonymous dime, by striking a plea bargain, by “naming names” to get yourself immunity, or by dumping a former associate to save your own skin. Nobody has made any such allegation against me. However, I here repeat my charge that the associates of Bill Clinton were actively, and with taxpayers’ money, spreading false information against truthful female witnesses. They sought to destroy the characters of these women by off-the-record briefings, and by underhanded denunciations. They snitched, in fact. In doing what I did, I testified against the authorities and not to them.

I had the alternative—as who does not?—of keeping quiet. Here’s how it goes in Washington, where I have now lived for nearly two decades. The government, in the person of X or Y, takes you into its confidence. Now, here is a lie, or a halftruth, which we the administration wish to have widely circulated or believed. You are being briefed, let us add, in confidence. We know we can count on you. Thus, you are sworn. You’re in. You hardly notice the oath being administered. If you breach the confidence—well, as they used to say in the trade, then comes ethics. You will know if you have committed an ethical breach, because you will lose your “access.” Capisce?

I have long thought that this is slightly too easy, and that the state should have to work a bit harder than that to get the press on its team. Do you remember when Ronald Reagan complained so self-pityingly about the eruption of the Iran-contra matter? If it had not been for “that rag in Beirut”— as he said of the Lebanese magazine Al-Shiraa, which first broke the story of Oliver North’s secret cake-and-Bible run with the mullahs—the whole story of hostage trading and illegal arms dealing would have remained a secret. And it was absolutely true that, until the Levantine sheet published the story, knowledge of North’s name and potency was the private property of a few Washington-bureau chiefs who knew the score. How reluctant they were to share, and how well I remember them all. It was in those years, when an overstaffed and overpaid Washington press corps was leading too fat and happy a life, that I first got to know Sidney

Not only have we often eaten and drunk in each other’s homes, and watched each other’s children grow (it was at the 1991 Bar Mitzvah of Sidney’s firstborn, Max, that I made up with Christopher Buckley, who hadn’t spoken to me for years after something I wrote about his father-in-law during Iran-contra), but we have also done some journalistic and political soldiering together. We jointly inaugurated the Osric Dining Society (Osric is the fawning courtier in Hamlet), an annual anti-awards dinner at which the prize went to the most butt-kissing piece of journalism published that year. When Rushdie came to Washington that time, we helped him meet some useful people. And when the Bosnian prime minister, Haris Silajdzic, came, to appeal for his murdered country and countrymen, we did the same. When Sidney was briefly detained by Secret Service agents for making a joke about Dole’s impending terminal experience at the gruesome Republican National Convention in San Diego in 1996, I stayed by Sidney’s side, leaving it only to bring him what may have been his first vodka and tonic. Not only was it a pleasure to be in his company—he is much more humorous than his TV appearances suggest—but in our limited way, on all of these occasions, we were at least trying to speak truth to power.

Now, I always knew, and all his friends knew, that Sidney was also interested in power and “access.” I didn’t think, as some did, that he strayed off the reservation by being too close to Gary Hart. Even in the past seven years, when he sometimes seemed to be ventriloquized by Clinton—in the pages of The New Republic and The New Yorker—I defended him. (He was often beaten up in print by people who didn’t have the guts to attack Clinton himself.) I did notice that, without saying anything, he dropped the subject of the Osric Dining Society. In retrospect, it astonishes me that we avoided a major quarrel for so long. I had become utterly convinced, as early as the 1992 campaign, that there was something in the Clinton makeup that was quite seriously nasty. The automatic lying, the glacial ruthlessness, the self-pity, the indifference to repeated exposure, the absence of any tincture of conscience or remorse, the awful piety—these were symptoms of a psychopath. And it kept on getting worse and worse—but not for Clinton himself, who could usually find a way of sacrificing a subordinate and then biting his lip in the only gesture of contrition he had learned to master. (After reading the testimony of Juanita Broaddrick, I’ll never be able to think of his lip biting in the same way again. But no doubt Arthur Schlesinger will be on hand to assure us that all men lie about rape.)

here’s what happened between Sidney and me, and here’s how the “compartmentalization” broke down. In March of last year, I came back to Washington for the first time since the Lewinsky scandal had broken. (I had been teaching at the University of California.) The first thing that Carol and I did was to have a catch-up lunch with Sidney. And I have to say, it was a shock. He was rather grim and businesslike, and in a very defensive mode. He could think of his boss only as the victim of a frame-up.

The preceding Sunday on 60 Minutes, Kathleen Willey had gone public with her accusation of a crude lunge made by Clinton, and what impressed me most at the time, and depressed me, too, was the tone of voice Sidney used in discussing this. “Yeah, her poll numbers are high now, but they’ll be down by the end of the week. You’ll see.” There was a sort of “We’ll take care of her” tone that I didn’t like, and Carol and I couldn’t look at each other. We felt the same constraint when he told us that “what people need to understand” was that Monica Lewinsky was a stalker, an unstable minx who had been threatening Clinton and telling him that if he didn’t have sex with her she would say he had anyway. This was no informal chat; we weren’t asked to keep that interpretation to ourselves; the presence was that of Sidney but the spin was His Master’s Voice. Sidney’s account as given to Starr is the same as I remember except that to me he left out Clinton’s breathtaking claim to be the victim and prisoner in Arthur Koestler’s Darkness at Noon. I feel flattered in retrospect that my old friend didn’t try to sell me this line. I remember saying, rather feebly, “Are you sure you want to get involved in this kind of thing—in going after the reputation of these women?” He left me two folders of pro-Clinton clips and documents, which I wish I’d kept, and went off back to the White House. The Washington Post, if you are interested, has since published not just the menu of that lunch but also the recipe for the salad, should you desire to prepare one in the comfort of your own home. This is, in some ways, a very silly town.

And, at the time, this seemed like no more than a disappointing lunch. Our old pal had said one rather disagreeable thing and had asked us to believe in one self-evidently preposterous theory. (A president, if you think about it for a second, just can’t be stalked in his own Oval Office.) However, as time went by, the significance of the conversation metamorphosed. I became convinced that, a few weeks before the lunch, Kathleen Willey had been threatened in person, had received threats against her children by name, and earlier had had her car brutally vandalized. I discovered that, within days of the lunch, she received a telephone call from a private detective named Jared Stern. Hired to invigilate her, he had sickened of his work and decided to give her an anonymous call warning her that she had influential enemies. It also appeared that Ms. Willey had been subjected to pressure by a politically connected tycoon named Nathan Landow, whom I knew by reputation as one of the less decorative members of Clinton’s soft-money world. (Asked by the grand jury whether he spoke to Ms. Willey about her testimony in the Paula Jones lawsuit on his own behalf or on the president’s, Mr. Landow has taken the Fifth Amendment.) I refuse to believe for a second that Sidney knew anything about this, but in the week that we talked, the White House “found” and released Ms. Willey’s correspondence with Clinton. I say “found” because when these same letters had been subpoenaed in the Jones case in January 1998, they couldn’t be located anywhere. Just another day in Clinton’s Washington.

Then came Clinton’s Senate trial. Suddenly, it was important to the White House to deny that Monica Lewinsky had ever been slandered. Why was it important, and why would they run the risk of telling such a transparent lie? It was important because it bore on the matter of obstruction of justice. She had been, before she unavoidably lost touch with “the big creep,” rewarded with a job search in return for a perjured affidavit. The rapid appearance in print of the “stalker” allegation could be viewed as a warning to keep silent—a hint of what might be said of her if she didn’t stay perjured. It hit me very abruptly, when I was having a drink with Erik Tarloff, Chris Buckley’s only rival as D.C.’s first satirical fictionist. As well as having contributed to speeches for Clinton and Gore, Erik is married to Laura D’Andrea Tyson, formerly Clinton’s chief economic adviser. He’s a shrewd guy, and he’s seen a lot of the Clinton M.O. “Notice how they always trash the accusers,” he said. “They destroy their reputations. If Monica hadn’t had that blue dress, they were getting ready to portray her as a fantasist and erotomaniac. Imagine what we’d all be thinking about her now.” At that moment, I became a hostage to what I’d been told at lunch. That day, it had been one thing, but with the passage of time it had become another. I told Erik what I’d been told. He told me he’d heard the same thing.

How, then, did the White House expect to get away with the lie? They expected to get away with it because they had made everyone complicit. In a city where the main “source” is the government, the etiquette about sources masks the plain fact that the government has a lock on the press. (One survey, which took 2,850 news stories from The Washington Postand The New York Times, found that 78 percent of the stories were attributed to government sources either on or off the record. Talk about ventriloquism. The state uses the media as a megaphone.)

Here’s what I mean. On January 23, Charles Ruff, the counsel to the president, told the Senate trial the following whopper: “The White House, the president, the president’s agents, the president’s spokes-persons—no one has ever trashed, threatened, maligned, or done anything else to Monica Lewinsky. No one.” (I know who the president’s spokespersons are, I recall thinking at the time. But who are these “agents”?) The following day, James Warren, the excellent Washington-bureau chief of the Chicago Tribune, was asked to comment on CNN:

That comment by Ruff was so palpably untrue. If I had a buck for every person at the White House who bad-mouthed her to me last January I could leave the set now and head off to Antigua.

I barely know a single reporter who could not have sworn to the same. And indeed, I do know at least one reporter who was approached by the House Judiciary Committee and asked to testify. He said no. He has to live here, and he can’t commit his newspaper. I don’t have to live here. Still and all, I wish it had been Ruff rather than Sidney I heard putting the story about. As it is, the state now has a new weapon against the press. Don’t be calling the president a liar. You’ll be accused of snitching on his juniors.

When Susan Bogart, senior investigative counsel of the House Judiciary Committee, contacted me in the closing days of the trial, she asked a question to which she already knew the answer. I had put a version of the lunch with Sidney in print, in the London Independent of September 13, 1998. I had told many people. I was in the process of writing a column for a small, pro-Clinton weekly magazine, in which I was proposing to tell it again. Furthermore, the story had the merit of being true, and of being revealing of the squalid underside of Clintonism. Every time I told it, I now realize, I was placing a friend in potential jeopardy, but only because he had elected to join the president’s bodyguard. In order to disown the story, I would have had to join the general agreement about “putting this behind us and moving on.” Well, I didn’t want to join any bloody agreement about putting things behind us and moving on. I thought it was a disgrace to have a mock trial, invisibly sponsored by the stock market and the opinion polls, at which the defendant didn’t appear and at which all efforts to mention Kathleen Willey and Juanita Broaddrick were quashed. The stocks are sold, the press is squared—include me out. To disown the story, also, I would have had to risk committing perjury, in order to accuse myself of having lied in the first place, in order to safeguard a dirty tactic used by Clinton’s proxies. Well, thanks, but then again, no thanks. That would’ve been Clintonism squared or cubed. And why didn’t I run out the clock, people ask me, and get clever with lawyers and delaying tactics? That’s easy. The trial of Clinton was in its closing stages. If I strung the prosecution along, anything they later established from me could be used only against someone other than the Godfather.

So I said that, if need be, I would confirm the Lewinsky stalker stuff under oath. I also put in the material about Kathleen Willey, without being asked, so as to help establish the White House state of mind. By the time you read this, the name Willey may be much better known than it is now, and people will be ashamed that they ever spoke so fatuously about “consensual sex.” No one has bothered to notice that I went out of my way to include Willey in the affidavit, because Sidney hasn’t been asked about it under oath and doesn’t know much about it anyway, and therefore it doesn’t help the only story that people seem to care about, which is fratricide between Sidney and me. A silly town, as I said, and sometimes a spiteful one, too. A town where, as the Chinese say, when the finger points at the moon, the idiots look at the finger.

The rest of the conversation with the House Judiciary Committee—actually the bulk of the conversation—consisted of my making a moral stipulation. This affidavit was being given in the trial of one person only: the president. It was being given as a rebuttal to a White House strategy of deception. Since grand-jury testimony had elicited the fact that Clinton was the sole author of the “stalker” slander, that he had passed it to Sidney and probably others, and had seen it get into the press, I wasn’t doing more than filling in one blank. In Senate evidence, Sidney had said that he now felt he’d been lied to by his president. He wasn’t the only one who had that feeling. So it would obviously be grotesque to proceed against him for the mere offense of giving an evasive answer. Any use of my affidavit for this purpose, I said, would cause me to repudiate it and risk being held in contempt. I would testify again only about Kathleen Willey. There are no absolute guarantees in this world, but I do know that what I said was understood. Anyway, the offense of perjury has been so downwardly defined by the Clintonoids that it can’t seriously be charged against a perjurer’s apprentice. Morally, also, it has been defined by the Democratic leadership as an offense only slightly worse than telling the truth.

And for doing that, I have already been held in contempt. But in Clinton’s Washington, it is a positive honor to be despised.

http://www.vanityfair.com/news/1999/...onica-lewinskyELATED