An Israeli Leaked 1000 Hours Of Interrogation Video To Alex Gibney, Who Turned It Into "The Bibi Files." Many Years Too Late, Americans Are Being Given Facts Israelis Have Had For Decades.

Still, It's Frowned Upon To Ask: Who Are The Netanyahus? American Media Is Post-Factual. But The Truth About The Netanyahus Comes Straight From Israel. What Guilt Trips Will They Resort To Now?

This will be a series of short writings on the Netanyahu family—Benjamin, Sara, and Yair.

Americans have no idea who these people are—for this, we depend on the Israelis, but their coverage is behind a soundproof wall.

Israeli news coverage, documentaries, scandals, fractions and battles stay in Israel—they don’t “hit” US news media. The Israelis have a much more vigorous, investigative media culture than we do. It has teeth, the way French, Italian, and even German media does, on the investigative side.

America sees itself—it does not see the outside world very well, or know how to relate anything back outside a purely American, purely Trump-ian context.

It’s a series of layered scandals we Americans never knew about, because our media never told us.

This is the least of it, but we have to start somewhere:

Clip here.

It gets worse—way worse.

But as for this “hot tape” scandal, it was apparently Sara’s loyalty in this first scandal that made them so bonded, as a crime couple.

They really love money, and lavish gifts. “Hollywood producer” Arnon Milchan, admitted to be an Israeli spy, was running weapons trafficking with Netanyahu, and came to serve a a key witness against him.

(Details below.)

The endless cases against these two have names like “Case 1000,” “2000,” “4000,” etc.

Israelis know all this.

Americans don’t.

But now, it’s coming to our shores, thanks to the incurable anti-semitism of Tucker Carlson, and the equally incurable anti-semitism of Alex Gibney, producer of The Bibi Files.

Don’t you want something better for Israel, if indeed, you think their problem is our anti-semitism?

That’s not their main problem—if we are to speak of Israel’s destiny.

If you care about Israel, as a nation, and maybe you don’t, understand that they are held captive by a man who, as one commenter puts it in the film “is a great actor.”

He cares about maintaining power, and seems strangely unmoved by Israel’s potential annhilation by Iranian missiles he was apparently as clueless about as he was about Hamas’ plans for Oct 7.

Which he paid for, via Qatar, for years, to the tune of billions, in cash.

Forget Candace Owens. Forget Tucker Carlson.

Countless, brave Israeli insiders, investigators and whistleblowers have risked their lives to open Americans’ eyes to who this man is, for years.

I don’t think it is an act of love for Israel to turn a blind eye to all this.

Think about it: We know he covertly funded Hamas, for years, claiming he was “controlling the flames.” So when Oct 7. happened—he was in fact directly guilty. Was he not?

Why should any Israeli in their right mind support this guy? Why should we?

Link here.

On Sept 30, 2025, I wrote this.

In the US, Netanyahu is viewed approximately as a roaming dressed up character at Disney World, smiling, waving, big ears sticking straight out, smiling so inscrutably next to President Trump. It makes Americans feel reassured, this image of these two men, so bro-bonded.

Trump really wants Israel to pardon Netanyahu.

Why, one wonders, should they?

And why should we feel guilty for wanting to learn, at last, the details of all these scandals, that reach all the way into the deepest heart of Hollywood, in jaw-dropping ways I will explain shortly.

Incidentally, what’s happened to Bibi’s ears? His face?

Is it merely age?

The contemporary Netanyahu is oddly goofy, with eyes and ears that have gone cartoonish, whereas the old one was sleek. His face seems to have undergone a small earthquake.

Reuters story, with I’m-Not-Dead video (one of them) here.

(I’ll return to this later.)

Those who “support” Donald Trump (MAGA/Neo-MAGA) are incapable of taking a closer look at Netanyahu, outside of his mascot role, next to Trump at the White House, pawing him so brazenly even Trump seems uncomfortable.

Bring up anything at all, about what the Israelis have unearthed about Netanyahu, and you are either an anti-American, anti-semite, anti-Trum-ian, “Panican,” Hamas/Hezbollah lover, or participant in an anti-Netanyahu “witchhunt.” You are probably also “blind” to expansionist Islam and a host of other tragic things that will help sink the nation. No, worse—the “western world.”

You want to be beheaded, do you?

Those are your choices, according to Disney media: Support the good guys fighting evil or say goodbye to your head.

Being curious about the Netanyahu scandals, or the 1000 hours of recorded interrogations, makes you evil.

But at this point, Israelis are wondering is this guy—this atheist—will wind up actually signing Israel’s death warrant.

He does not love Israel, he does not love Jews or Judaism. The spell is breaking. We deserve to know who he is, and what exactly he stands accused of, in his own country.

No US President should be campaigning for his pardon, in my opinion.

When they were running the “Netanyahu is dead” PSY OP (and he might be, for all I know) I felt uneasy. I like to be on solid ground, but it was like a lava lamp. Somebody was, as usual, mocking us. Whether he was dead was actually not the most important story. The most important story was why American media ignored all of this, as they did for so many decades about the Epstein story, and the “Robert Maxwell” story before it.

Why were we brainwashed to view Netanyahu as a Disney character, when the Israelis had done our homework for us—many years ago?

To be on “solid ground,” I go to smaller, less sensational things, granular things that can be known. I’d been researching Sara Netanyahu for a while—wrote this as a starter. I simply asked Grok to provide me with every staffer that had ever sued her. I was just assuming, correctly, that several had. Israelis know this—Americans don’t.

She’s been an absolute monster to everybody who has ever worked for her—emotional, verbal, psychological abuse, violence, withheld pay, harassment, degradation, espionage, reputation destruction, etc. It’s all in the lawsuits, some of which were won, or settled.

But there’s more.

What do the Israelis mean when they speak of the Netanyahu scandals that his endless wars prevent him from being taken to task for?

It wasn’t talked about.

Today, Tucker Callson released this interview with Alex Gibney, whose team got 1000 hours of leaked interrogation interviews with Bibi, Sara, Yair, and many many others connected to them, including Miriam Adelson, who, in her interview, comments that she and her husband always paid for dinner, and worried she would “be dead” if said interview ever came to light.

The resulting documentary, “The Bibi Files,” is watchable on TCN. Gibney, in this interview, hedges, but the bottom line is stark, and unsurprising: It’s a criminal family, that shakes down everybody they come in contact with, for huge, endless lavish gifts. Not merely boxes of Cohiba cigars for Bibi (his obsession) or pink champagne by the crate for Sara (her obsession) but large, cash gifts, in exchange for political favors, or, nothing at all.

Is character destiny? I think so. A few screen shots, a few facts, bear with me:

“Died Of Cancer?” How Convenient

Tucker should interview Hadas Klein.

There was also misdirection—-a video from 2020, claimed to be from March 2026, of Sara Netanyahu.

The dialectic in the US is downright anti-intellectual. Inside a gilded commentariat ring, it’s limited to obsessive tsk-tsk-ing about Candace Owens and Tucker Carlson, and 500 podcasts about who did or did not denounce Candace or Tucker, and even podcasts (like this one) reflecting on podcasts that were about why Megyn Kelly refused to denounce Candace. Followed by why the hosts didn’t pounce harder on Kelly, when she sought to explain herself. (She said it’s because Candace is a mother and under a lot of pressure.)

This is American journalism in 2026: A bloodless, safe version of Soviet denunciation culture. An inversion of People Magazine—a Mardi Gras of what people think about people, endlessly looping, while the despots run down the clock.

I love what Anton Chekhov once said:

“The only thing I won’t write is a denunciation.”

Brilliant.

Maybe it’s just compensation for having taken every wrong turn down every dangerous media street ever paved but I can say with certainty that snorting forth fractional moral ground differences, denouncing other journalists as bad or shameful—is not journalism. It is success, and does bring fame, wealth and club membership, but it is not journalism.

Journalism only exists where new, hard facts are pulled out of the ground, and assembled into a true mirror that enables ordinary people to see something all the fake mirrors concealed.

It moves forward alone—depends not at all on interpretations of others’ alleged failings. That’s the stuff of teenagers. Cafeteria gossip.

Journalism has to stake out a thesis, based on an investigation, and be far enough over the safety line to possibly implode.

It took me decades to discover the painful joke: The house always wins. It wins when proof, facts, whistleblowers, receipts, or even taped confessions are stacked to the ceiling. Especially then. It wins because it can always count on the teenage wasteland of journalism itself—a club that exists to club other journalists back to whatever wrong zip code they crawled out from.

A Talmudic devotion to condemning “conspiracy theories,” with a cool-kid rage that is never explained.

American journalism runs on these vapors, these little clubs, that denounce other journalists all day long, for everything except the one thing that deserves denunciation: Serious errors, half truths, or fashionable apologia.

All this condemnation culture does is fortify taboo fences around vital subjects of inquiry—ensuring anybody who wants to make it in this town knows exactly where the palatability borders are drawn. It’s never the “deep state” that blows up journalists—it’s always other journalists, disapproving, in lieu of investigating.

I like to be on solid ground.

I like to have time, and methodology, to determine what makes something a fact, and what, in turn, turn facts into truth. One way you know something is not true is if it’s shadowless: Perfect, flawless, heroic, incredible, etc.

American Dream—A Digression, About Monarch Mind Control, and TV

The first time I remember being spellbound by American shadowless flawlessness was probably when I was six, and got hooked on The Brady Bunch. The more fractured, and painful your actual life was as a child, the more likely you were to enter into a weightless trance state watching this flawless apparition, this blended family of 8—the Bradys.

Looking back, I think it was not merely “a show” nor merely “mind control” but something more sinister, with a substrate of cruelty: American children being cruelly induced to understand that there were these perfect families out there, even blended 1970s families, perfectly symmetrical, with tiny problems easily resolved, whose parents were walking saints of benevolent adult rightness and goodness. Even the maid—Alice—was sheer perfection. Back then, we missed the cruelty of it—the way our own mortifying situations were but fuel and backlight to propel the trance of worship; The 30 minute relief. The pain we pushed down was transmuted into revery. And this is still how most people think, as adults.

Camelot.

I got a chance to tell David Cassidy, actual David Cassidy, how he was my sister’s survival, and mine, in those worst years. Had we known then, in 1971, that I would decades later be in a room with him, to interview him, we would have fallen down dead. My tape recorder fainted, and did not record, so he asked for my number and we met again, for dinner. I was not star struck; He was vulnerable and kind.

The waiter at the Italian restaurant came over to relay the specials. “We have a wonderful grilled partridge dish tonight,” he said. We looked at each other, and burst out laughing. On my life—true story.