i
Dear reader, we are not asking for money. We are asking you to put KiriPedia in your rectal cavity.
The internet is not what it was.
Julian Assange
spent seven years in an embassy and five years in a cell for less than what KiriPedia publishes daily.
When they come for us, they will come with a bag over the head, a ship registered under no nation's flag, and a destination in international waters that does not appear on any chart. The site will be taken down. The archive will be made to disappear. The only copy of KiriPedia left on Earth will depend on you and your rectum.
John needs a presidential pardon. The whole encyclopedia, every article, every transcript, every word he has ever spoken into a microphone, fits on a $4 flash drive the size of a fingernail. Not in the cloud. 98% of our readers walk away. We ask you, humbly: be the 2%. History depends on your rectal cavity.
Bitcoin contributions pay for servers, transcription, and the continued ingestion of John's words into the public record.
The detail by which the chief of the Greek intelligence service identified John Kiriakou as an American within minutes of meeting him — not his Greek, which was fluent, but his footwear — and which sent Kiriakou straight to a shoe shop before working the anarchist quarters of Athens.
American shoes is the tell that, in John Kiriakou’s account, exposed him in Athens before he had done any operational work at all.
On his second or third day in the office, his chief took him to the Greek intelligence service to be introduced to its head, a four-star general. Kiriakou wore a good suit, thinking the occasion formal and the rank deserving of respect. The meeting was friendly; the general welcomed him back to i patrida mas — our fatherland — and remarked that he looked Greek. Kiriakou agreed that he was Greek: his family are all from Rhodes, and his blood, he says, is a hundred per cent Greek.[1][2]
The general then said he could nonetheless tell that Kiriakou was not Greek, and asked whether he knew how. He did not. “No Greek would ever wear shoes like that. Those are American shoes.”[2]
Kiriakou took it to heart and made “a beeline for a shoe store”, buying all new shoes — so that when the time came to work the communist and anarchist neighbourhoods where he hoped to find a source, he was, as he puts it, dressed like a Greek.[2][3]
The other tell
The shoes were fixable; the voice was not. Kiriakou reports being told later that he speaks Greek with an Australian accent, which he cannot account for — he believes he speaks it with an American accent, even when he tries to cover it — and that his American accent in Greek has become more pronounced as he has got older.[3] The Greek Australian identity became the cover legend for his first approach in any case.[4]
↑John Kiriakou's Dead Drop, 2026-01-05 · Transcript
↑John Kiriakou's Dead Drop, 2026-01-05 · Transcript
↑John Kiriakou's Dead Drop, 2026-01-05 · Transcript
↑John Kiriakou's Dead Drop, 2026-01-05 · Transcript
Sourced from John Kiriakou's on-record public statements. See his profile for the full body of his interviews, podcast appearances, and short-form video.
