By David Glenn Cox
I know that you will call me suspicious. Age and a few missing lawnmowers will make you that way. But there has been a peculiar guest staying at the Mar-A-Twumpo Golf and Grift Resort. A young woman claiming to be a banking heiress from the famous Rothschild banking family. I suppose, if you’re going to generate a fake identity…go for the gusto. Make it a name they had to have heard of before. But keep it simple, lest you go over their heads.
No point in being the Czar’s second cousin, you’re Anastasia! The Princess once thought dead by the whole world, suddenly found among us…alive! I’m Emilia Earhart’s daughter! It’s almost a truism, if it sounds too good to be true, check it out. In Russian accent – “Hi, I’m former baseball great Mickey Mantle. You may have heard of me!” I thought Mickey Mantle was dead. “I was, but now I’m back and ready for a restful vacation at your wonderful resort. Wanna see my fake ID?”
Oh, no, no Mr. Mantle. That won’t be necessary, I wouldn’t want to insult a man of your stature by asking for your identification. Feel free to explore the grounds or exploit the staff. Inna Yashchyshyn, AKA, Anna de Rothschild visited the Mar-A-Twumpo asylum at least five times. And just because she’s Ukrainian and involved in the Russian community in south Florida, is no reason to suspect she has any ties with Russian intelligence.
But there was that one incident, where she claimed her business partner had sicked the underworld on her. Oh good, the Mafia now. Domestic or imported?
The FBI report and investigation show Yashchyshyn is more than likely, just a criminal more than say, a spy. Out trolling for suckers in the warm tropical waters of Mar-A-Twumpo. Looking for investors to get in on the ground floor of the next Rubik’s cube or investing in newly discovered Ukrainian gold mines. The subject of a criminal probe in Canada, she gave the FBI a phony driver’s license with an address to a Florida mansion, where she never lived.
Call me Colombo, but wasn’t Matt Gaetz drug buddy and convicted child predator wingman, accused of making phony Florida driver’s licenses? Hey, money’s money, right? That cocaine won’t buy itself. Those young child prostitutes are easy, but they aren’t free.
The only real attraction to Mar-A-Twumpo is Twump. No other reason to stay in a gaudy overpriced monument to excess, other than the eighteen holes of ass kissing available. Look at me Ma! Nouveau riche. Yashchyshyn had her picture taken with Twump and with a smiling jackal named Lindsey Graham. She rubbed shoulders with the Presidential entourage. And no one even bothered to check out her story.
“Oh, that’s Anna de Rothschild, famous banking heiress. Simply made of old money, don’t you know. I bet she’s worth billions.” Driving around in numerous luxury cars, you might think that someone was funding this charade for a reason.
She wasn’t looking for peanuts or to get her picture taken with celebrities. Too much time and money had been spent for a simple grift. This smells really bad, shit meet fan. Yashchyshyn claims that she is being set up by her vengeful former business partner. He made the phony driver’s license, but she couldn’t explain where the two phony passports in the name of Anna de Rothschild came from.
How simple is it to infiltrate the Mar-A-Twumpo resort Security? Got a credit card and a telephone?
The vengeful former business partner, Valeriy Tarasenko said in a court affidavit, that Yashchyshyn’s purpose was to infiltrate and gain access to US politicians, including Twump. Mission Accomplished!
But beware the double grift, “Oh, they couldn’t be working together, they hate each other!”
This would be bad enough all by itself but knowing what we know about document security at Mar-A-Twumpo. Yashchyshyn says they never asked for her ID, and she never offered to show them one. The truth be told, there might not be one real (actual) guest left at the Mar-A-Twumpo compound today. They might all be spies and grifters, under assumed names from all around the world! Crowding in like moths around a fat, glowing yellow bug light and the “No Vacancy” sign is lit.
“Dirty Rotten Scoundrels” looking to bilk the billionaires, unaware that there are no real billionaires present. Only other grifters and intelligence agents taking you for a billionaire and making nice. Until it becomes like an Agatha Christie dinner theater, who is working for whom and why?
Why send one agent when you can send a dozen. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that everyone at the Mar-A-Twumpo compound is an intelligence agent, grifter or undercover FBI or CIA agent. From the bell hop to the Golf Pro, an undercover convention of spies and thieves, with the too dumb innocent’s sitting in the middle unawares. “Donald, the waiter’s belt buckle is clicking at me again. And there’s a humming sound coming from my dresser in the bedroom.”
There might be a lot of unnoticed winking going on. The waiter might wink to the chef, who winks at the Maître d’ who passes a note to the bell boy hidden inside a menu. The bell boy takes the menu to say a mythical room 119 perhaps and slides it under the door. Almost immediately, an envelope containing $10,000 dollars comes from under the door in the opposite direction.
Without even the security of a Kindergarten class. Anybody in a nice car with a famous last name can come in and hit a few golf balls. Drink a few beers and brown nose a simple-minded former President.
“Hi, my name is George Herman Ruth, but you can call me Babe.” Nice to meet you Babe! What do you do for a living? “I own all the coffee plantations in Europe! My grandfather invented the Chia Pet! And my mother was Eleanor Roosevelt!”
Wow, the Chia pet. Gee, you must be really, really rich! You know, we should play golf together sometime. I like the cut of your jib. How would you like to get in on the ground floor of some Ukrainian oil wells? Why is that waiter’s belt buckle clicking?
“Oh, I get it! It’s the old phony banking heiress in the Presidential golf club trick!” – Maxwell Smart