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laptop lap desk elevated screen SITREPS
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Sorry Riz.., but URL ain't viewable. You copy?
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laptop lap desk elevated screen SITREPS
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Damn 81mm! Big Brother Google seems to have removed the WHOLE fookin thread! What an archive lost to the ether! LOL! ok, back to bee's knees.... + + + + The Analyst (Monrovia) August 12, 2004 Until recently, Charles Taylor's direct _link_s with the notorious al-Qaeda terrorist movement was considered part of international conspiracy to discredit and topple his government. Taylor himself alluded to such scheme and did not only call for proof from his accusers but also proffered to help the Bush administration bring al-Qaeda suspects to justice. Just last week, US and UN officials in the West African subregion spoke of Taylor's personal participation in the al-Qaeda West African blood diamonds hoax and disclosed plans to extradite him for trial. But even then, skepticism amongst observers remained high. But as The Analyst Staff Writer reports, more and more witnesses have come up with fresh evidences that bind Taylor, blood diamonds, and al-Qaeda's West African ring of money laundering in preparation for the bombings of the September 11, 2001 in the US. Top al-Qaeda terrorists were sheltered by former Liberian warlord Charles Taylor while he built up a war chest from trading in diamonds, UN prosecutors in Sierra Leone claimed in a recent report that is yet to be released. The report said al-Qaeda paid Taylor for protection and lived under his shield for more than five years, at a military camp near the border with Sierra Leone, in government-run hotels in the capital of Monrovia and at one of Taylor's residences in Congo town. Ahmed Khalfan Ghailani, one al-Qaeda operative who hitherto had a US$25 million bounty on his head and only recently arrested in Pakistan, according to the report, was hidden out in Liberian military camps from late 1998 until shortly before Taylor was forced to step down. Further evidence of al-Qaeda's growing presence in Africa lies in a dossier prepared by UN prosecutors at the special war crimes court in Sierra Leone, which has indicted Liberian strongman, Taylor in absentia. They claimed that from September 1998 to late 2002 or early 2003, six of the FBI's most wanted, including Ghailani, amassed an estimated US$15 million from trade in diamonds to finance terror operations. The Associated Press, in a dispatch Tuesday this week, quoted a confidential report by UN-backed prosecutors in Sierra Leone as saying that a series of witnesses placed six top al-Qaeda fugitives in Africa buying up diamonds before the September 11 attacks on the United States. It said during al-Qaeda's operations in Liberia, millions of United States dollars were laundered in terror funds before launching its deadliest offensive that rocked the heart of America's security citadel - the Pentagon. Al-Qaeda figures, including those already wanted in pre-September 11 attacks on U.S. targets, dealt directly with Liberia's former President Charles Taylor and other leaders and warlords in what was then a rogue West African nation from 1999 onwards, according to witness accounts of meetings and sightings in the blighted Liberian capital's seedy hotels and safe-houses, the AP dispatch said. The account said that al-Qaeda was attracted to West Africa, mainly war-ravaged Liberia, because it provided cover for the off-hand opportunity to snap up diamonds for easily convertible, untraceable resources after the first US-led moves in 1999 froze al-Qaeda bank accounts and other conventional assets worldwide. Witnesses say Liberia's former President Taylor himself gave al-Qaeda operatives entry to the shady West African world of guns, cash and diamonds before September 11, according to the dossier, the AP dispatch noted. It said having paid for protection, ex-president Taylor allegedly brought rebels, state leaders and Islamic extremists under the common goal of cash and introduced them to rebels controlling fine-gem mining next door, in diamond-rich Sierra Leone, it quoted sources as telling investigators. The dispatch however noted that those that were making the _link_ between Taylor and al-Qaeda charged that the US government had turned its back on the case in part over discomfort over the CIA's own alleged Cold War-era _link_s to Taylor. + + + + The Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) registered a 30 percent rise in the volume of diamonds it exported through official trade between 10 and 30 July following an international ban on diamonds in the neighbouring country of the Republic of Congo. Exports went from [US} $60 million to $81 million, Eugène Diomi Ndongala, the DRC's minister for mines, told IRIN last week. + + + + 81mm wrote - Ukryj cytowany tekst -- Pokaż cytowany tekst - Sorry Riz.., but URL ain't viewable. You copy?
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laptop lap desk elevated screen SITREPS
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*Friday night rum kicks in* http://_meta_lab.unc.edu/jwsnyder/rft/rft001.mp2 I ain't havin this fuckin' Big Brother shit! LET THE THREAD RETURN! + + + + Sod that old fashioned tin foil hat! http://www.handy-fashions.com/index.html + + + + This might C&P shit, but what the hell..... Inside Al-Qaeda's Hard Drive Tips for the Traveling Terrorist Underwear should be the normal type that people wear, not anything that shows you're a fundamentalist. Suggestions lifted from the laptop on how to pass unnoticed in the West. In the autumn of 2001 I was one of scores of journalists who ventured into northern Afghanistan to write about the U.S.-assisted war against the Taliban. As I crossed the Hindu Kush to cover the fighting for The Wall Street Journal, my journey took what looked like a fatal turn: the battered black pickup truck I had rented—which in its better years had been a war wagon for Afghan gunmen—lost its brakes as it headed down a steep mountain path, careened along the edge of a gorge, slammed headlong into the back of a Northern Alliance fuel truck that was creeping down the mountain, and slid to rest on its side in the middle of the road. My bags spilled down the mountainside or were crushed beneath the pickup. Fortunately, none of the pickup's occupants—a Japanese journalist, two Afghan interpreters, the driver, and a shoeless boy who had been riding on the roof and wiping dust from the windshield—was seriously injured. Only my interpreter, a Russian-speaking Afghan, seemed to be hurt; he clutched his side and said that something had hit him in the ribs. We nursed some cuts and bruises, and climbed aboard a Northern Alliance truck carrying wooden crates of Kalashnikov ammunition. The wreck might have been just a minor bump in my travels through a land where inhabitants display a whoopsy-daisy attitude toward fatal accidents and killings. But a day later, after bedding down forty miles north of Kabul, I asked my interpreter what had hit him in the ribs. He said it was my computer, which he'd always held in his lap for safekeeping. I got up and removed the computer from its black bag, opened its lid, and saw that the screen was smashed. In the coming weeks, living in a fly-infested hut, I scrawled stories by candlelight with a ballpoint pen and read dispatches to my editors over a satellite phone. That crash became memorable for reasons I never expected. When the Taliban's defenses crumbled, in November of 2001, I joined a handful of malnourished correspondents who rushed into Kabul and filed stories about the city's liberation. We pounced like so many famished crows on the first Western staples we had seen since leaving home: peanut butter, pasteurized milk, and canned vegetables, all of which we found on Chicken Street, Kabul's version of a shopping district. We raided the houses where Arab members of al-Qaeda had been holed up during their stay in Afghanistan, grabbing whatever documents were left in their file cabinets. But unlike most correspondents, I needed to spend some time getting to know Kabul's computer dealers, because I wanted to replace my laptop. It took about an hour to shake hands with all of them. The regime that had forbidden television and kite-flying as un-Islamic had also taken a dim view of computers. I searched through the bazaars and found Soviet-era radios and television sets, but the electronics dealers had never even seen a computer, and certainly didn't know how to wire one to a satellite phone. I found my first computer dealer in a drafty storefront office in downtown Kabul, near the city's central park. He worked alone and didn't have a computer in his office, because, he said, he couldn't afford one. He bragged that he was the sole computer consultant for the Afghan national airline, Ariana. This impressed me deeply—until I learned that Ariana had only one computer and only one working airplane. He told me about another dealer, who ran a computer training school on the second floor of a building overlooking the park. I fumbled my way up a decrepit, unlit stairwell and along a dusty hallway to an office: a long room with a threadbare couch and a desk with a computer on it. The second dealer told me that he had serviced computers belonging to the Taliban and to Arabs in al-Qaeda. I forgot about my own computer problems and hired him to search for these computers. Eventually he led me to a semiliterate jewelry salesman with wide-set eyes and a penchant for gold chains. This was the man who that December would take $1,100 from me in exchange for two of al-Qaeda's most valuable computers—a 40-gigabyte IBM desktop and a Compaq laptop. He had stolen them from al-Qaeda's central office in Kabul on November 12, the night before the city fell to the Northern Alliance. He wanted the money, he said, so that he could travel to the United States and meet some American girls. My acquisition of the al-Qaeda computers was unique in the experience of journalists covering radical Islam. In the 1990s the police had seized computers used by al-Qaeda members in Kenya and the Philippines, but journalists and historians learned very little about the contents of those computers; only some information from them was released in U.S. legal proceedings. A much fuller picture would emerge from the computers I obtained in Kabul (especially the IBM desktop), which had been used by al-Qaeda's leadership. On the night before Kabul fell, Taliban officials were fleeing the city in trucks teetering with their personal effects. The looter who sold me the computers figured that al-Qaeda had fled as well, so he crawled over a brick wall surrounding the house that served as the group's office. Finding nobody inside, he took the two computers, which he had discovered in a room on the building's second floor. On the door of the room, he said, was the name of Muhammad Atef—al-Qaeda's military commander and a key planner of 9/11. Each day, he said, Atef would walk into the office carrying the laptop in its black case. The looter knew he had something good. So did the U.S. military when it heard what I had bought. The offices of The Wall Street Journal, just across from the World Trade Center, had been destroyed on 9/11. Our New York staff, which was working out of a former warehouse in Lower Manhattan, was acutely aware of potential threats; it was carefully screening mail for anthrax. Thinking that the computers might hold information about future attacks, my editors called the U.S. Central Command, which sent three CIA agents to my hotel room in Kabul. They said they needed the computers immediately; I had time to copy only the desktop computer before handing them both over. Atef's laptop was returned to me two months later, by an agent named Bert, at a curbside in Washington, D.C. The CIA said that the drive had been almost empty, but I've always wondered if this was true. The desktop computer, it turned out, had been used mostly by Ayman al-Zawahiri, Osama bin Laden's top deputy. It contained nearly a thousand text documents, dating back to 1997. Many were locked with passwords or encrypted. Most were in Arabic, but some were in French, Farsi, English, or Malay, written in an elliptical and evolving system of code words. I worked intensively for more than a year with several translators and with a colleague at The Wall Street Journal, Andrew Higgins, interviewing dozens of former jihadis to decipher the context, codes, and intentions of the messages for a series of articles that Higgins and I wrote for the Journal in 2002. What emerged was an astonishing inside look at the day-to-day world of al-Qaeda, as managed by its top strategic planners—among them bin Laden, al-Zawahiri, Atef, Ramzi bin al-Shibh, and Khalid Sheikh Muhammad, all of whom were intimately involved in the planning of 9/11, and some of whom (bin Laden and al-Zawahiri) are still at large. The documents included budgets, training manuals for recruits, and scouting reports for international attacks, and they shed light on everything from personnel matters and petty bureaucratic sniping to theological discussions and debates about the merits of suicide operations. There were also video files, photographs, scanned documents, and Web pages, many of which, it became clear, were part of the group's increasingly sophisticated efforts to conduct a global Internet-_base_d publicity and recruitment effort. The jihadis' Kabul office employed a zealous manager—Ayman al-Zawahiri's brother Muhammad, who maintained the computer's files in a meticulous network of folders and subfolders that neatly laid out the group's organizational structure and strategic concerns. (Muhammad's system fell apart after he was arrested in 2000 in Dubai and extradited to Egypt.) The files not only provided critical active intelligence about the group's plans and methods at the time (including the first leads about the shoe bomber Richard Reid, who had yet to attempt his attack) but also, in a fragmentary way, revealed a road map of al-Qaeda's progress toward 9/11. Considered as a whole, the trove of material on the computer represents what is surely the fullest sociological profile of al-Qaeda ever to be made public. Perhaps one of the most important insights to emerge from the computer is that 9/11 sprang not so much from al-Qaeda's strengths as from its weaknesses. The computer did not reveal any _link_s to Iraq or any other deep-pocketed government; amid the group's penury the members fell to bitter infighting. The blow against the United States was meant to put an end to the internal rivalries, which are manifest in vitriolic memos between Kabul and cells abroad. Al-Qaeda's leaders worried about a military response from the United States, but in such a response they spied opportunity: they had fought the Soviet Union in Afghanistan, and they fondly remembered that war as a galvanizing experience, an event that roused the ... więcej »
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laptop lap desk elevated screen SITREPS
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Organization: http://groups.google.com Newsgroups: alt.war.mercenary Date: 13 Aug 2004 10:24:28 -0700 Subject: Re: SITREPS *Friday night rum kicks in*
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