Nancy Salzman has been less impaired than poor rich Clare Bronfman, all the way from back to her Cranford, New Jersey days of overly vigorous youth at 51 Stratford Terrace.
Nancy was secure with her B’nai B’rith parents when her last name was still Loshin. Her parents were father, Milton, and her mother Edith, but Nancy’s mother was noted for her political opinions.
Quite so. Kinda like mama was a fan of bizarrely politicized (aka switcheroo) communistic Judaism, from what’s been said. Like translating Seder traditions into Pig Latin and putting it all back in some crematorium’s oven. But whatever about whatever.
Nancy was not noted much around Cranford, New Jersey, except for her probable future as a pudgy and virtue-signaling turkey vulture, who would specialize in resembling a deviously grinning troglodyte with bad hair when she grew up. Sadly, that never happened to Nancy. Firstly, she had to go off and gather her wits to be able to fake her educational qualifications.
Nancy has been too ignored since right after her plea deal was signed. Perhaps she would like to address that here at the open forum of the Frank Report, with an ankle bracelet monitor strapped in front of her mouth but not unplugged. That could be chic.
The Nancy Salzman news blackout is irksome, considering her self-importance. The smell of that ignore-ance is as bad as when commune members accidentally roast a trapped rat in their toaster oven, for breakfast. Very communal. It could even be a national event, this intestinal Nancy news blockage.
If it is indeed a national blockage, this Salzman blackout, to whom does one protest? The late George H. W. Bush? The merry and gay J. Edgar Hoover, via a postcard from the edge?
Funny how both hypnosis and linguistic retraining mechanics are big toys from old Nancy Loshin’s bag of trickery. Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
What is an entitled and snarling éClair like Clare Bronfman gonna do? This could all be a fake fight fashioned to be a distraction, but let us not dig too deeply beneath these conjoined horses’ asses. All you have to do is listen as they put their lips together and watch them blow, like an atonal nest of vipers. Who’s going to be The Leader of the Pack! and run the da-doo-doo run?
What to say, not only of Keith Raniere but of Nancy Salzman, who turned her own daughters over to an insane beast? To service his sexual megalomania and miserable perversions?
God. I hope never even to see Nancy Salzman’s leering face. Ever. All the way up from the soles of my feet, through my gut and heart and breath, right up the spine, I want her days of evil ended. It is too late for her to redeem herself right now, because no doubt, Nancy Salzman thinks that she is just fine, even advanced, even superior. Have at it. Look down your Pinocchio noses and snort through your adenoids, stinky motherfuckers. I have my own earth, air, water, fire and the metal, right here, given to me at birth. So do the children you have enjoyed trafficking.
Salzman and Bronfman and Allison Mack, etc. can go ahead and choke on their hallucinated superiority. Somebody bring some whiskey. I will bring butterscotch and chocolate. The audience has been ready and assembled for a long time.
Soon enough, more ceremonies in court. For the deliverance of not-enough-jail-time, except perhaps for the Head Turd already imprisoned. Raniere weeping and unkempt, pretending to know karate, with his feet soaked in his own piss and floating crap logs. Cumgratulations, jackwad.
Thanks for the entertainment, now go lose some teeth and slump over and try to masturbate, surrounded by all of that prison luxuriousness.
The prison chorus lines will be glad to help any old pervert work out his self-pity. Guys like Raniere are all alike under the skin. Cowards. Not every man in prison is Raniere’s kind of coward. It is obvious these men are disgusted by Raniere too. He seems to have been stuck buying off skinheads for some protection. Even they have a “Judas” or two in their ranks who might take satisfaction in doing something to Keith Raniere. These people can go ballistic over a piece of gum; some of them like it like that.
No wonder Keith Raniere keeps needing new eyeglasses. It could be his head or his neck or even his unprivate private parts that get lopped off.
There is almost nothing more deranged on earth to me than a “mother” like Nancy Salzman. Clare never produced a baby, so far as one hears. Cheers to that not having happened. Raniere might have more impact upon good men, who are men themselves. As a woman, a mother, a sister a grandmother, Nancy Salzman outrages me.
The worst symbolism representative of my own feminine nature, the way I am made, is a woman like Nancy Salzmzn, is Salzman herself. I don’t give a damn who knows it. She has promoted making people afraid to be themselves. To me, that is the opposite of how to want to be a mama or a dad. She didn’t let her daughters learn how to think for themselves and instead, very narcissistically, she tried to make her daughters into living images of herself.
She told them what to think and made sure that her daughters obeyed her agenda.
I have made myself throw away a lot of my written thoughts about Nancy Salzman, all too aware of who she is, what levels of monstrosity she represents to me. Here at our home are children, pets, art, music, wonderful foods, books, magnolia trees. The Healer. But I will not ignore noticing the Ranieres or the Salzmans or any carnivores who feast on peoples’ innocence or vulnerabilities, upon trust or generosity.
To me, many of these people with sick and/or sickening motives seem to retreat, to step back and hide out, like turkey vultures roosting up in trees, waiting for the heat, for the attention, to shift away from them when they get outed, intending all along to keep up the destruction. They will still call their causes “self-help, enlightenment, opportunity.” It is not over, exposing even the Toni Natalies, who try to profit from twisting the truth right out of the mouths of those who have been hurt the most.
It is not over.