Believe this: I do not expect that anyone would take anything that I write here as gospel. I am a tech teacher in an urban elementary school and I teach my students about Al Gore's Internet and how it works. One of the first lessons is this: Don't believe anything you see once. I spent a couple of days politely disagreeing with a third grader who insisted that vampires were real, much to the distress of his little brother. He had seen a video on YouTube that convinced him, and that was enough. I asked if maybe he wanted to look at another website or two that might persuade him differently. On the third day, it became apparent that a parent had stepped in to put the kibosh on the stories of pointy-teeth undead roaming the streets of Oakland.
Just because you saw it on Al Gore's Internet, it doesn't mean it's real.
Which may still be a surprise to Jacob Wohl. Jacob was a teenaged hedge fund owner who ended up running afoul of several state and federal investigations, decided to become a conservative media star in his twenties. His most recent effort included a tweet that suggested that a bombshell was about to drop on Robert Mueller, media-wise. The "scandalous story" was teased, and then the following day was unveiled. The former director of the FBI was being accused of sexual misconduct. The investigators were from Surefire Intelligence, who exist primarily in the form of a cobbled-together Linked-In profile created by (here's the twist) none other than Jacob Wohl. As this shaggy dog of a story began to shed, it was revealed that "someone" had offered various women twenty thousand dollars to claim that Mueller, while an attorney in private practice in the mid-1970s, and engaged in some form of sexual misconduct. Surefire's voicemail redirects to Jacob's mom's voicemail.
So, it turns out that the scandalous story was there, just not in the way Mister Wohl may have expected it to unravel.
Which doesn't mean that Robert Mueller isn't a vampire, however.
But you don't have to believe me. Call my mom's voice mail.