Well, well. Looks like the NSA has been checking into our phone records and keeping a big fat Orwellian eye on whom we’ve been calling, when, and for how long. Oh, damn! I shouldn’t be writing about this — the mere discussion of any topic detrimental to the Republicans gives aid and comfort to our enemies. So get that straight, people — talk = treason, okay? With the cooperation of their good friends and campaign contributors at Verizon et al, the government is opening your mail and checking out your phone bill… and it’s none of your goddamn business.
They just want to know if you’ve been talking to any hardcore terrorists, like — say — the folks at the Thomas Merton Center. It’s a matter of national security, so don’t talk about it or you’ll make Senator Jeff Sessions very very angry. Don’t even think about it — the terrorists will read your mind and take comfort in our lack of discipline. There’s nothing they can’t do, nothing!
Are you afraid yet? Good. So am I.
God this is idiotic. I mean, does anyone seriously believe that al Qaeda operatives would never suspect their phone records are being scrutinized unless they read about it in USA Today? In this age of disposable cell phones and calling cards you can buy at your supermarket checkout counter, who the hell would plan terrorist attacks using their household phone? The Democrats are treating this like a privacy issue, but it’s more serious than that. Sure, the notion of the government checking my phone bill is annoying and invasive, but the larger question is what exactly are they looking for? When they vacuum up large volumes of calling data, what makes the NSA connect-the-dot-o-tron go ka-ching!? A call to Yemen? No… ’cause these are domestic calls. Once again, the administration is saying “trust us”, but after all we’ve seen in the last few years, that only recalls to mind the line from Animal House: “Hey… you fucked up. You trusted us.”
We know that they’ve been targeting lawful, peaceful organizing and activism. We know that they’ve been painting animal rights activists as “eco-terrorists” and the like. We know that they routinely engage in “pig-fucking” their political adversaries. What is the big picture here… the elephant in the room? Domestic spying is like a narcotic to the executive branch. Once they start using it, it’s hard to stop. Cointelpro is probably the most glaring example, but it’s not the only one. What we’re seeing may be the outlines of another massive abuse of power by an administration that’s politically on the skids, paranoid, and willing to do just about anything to advance its highly unpopular agenda. That’s not conspiracy mongering — I’m just observing that there is reason for concern. It’s similar to the detainee abuse scandal; the many disparate pieces strongly suggest a unifying policy at its base, one that reflects well established patterns of executive behavior stretching back decades. We were expected to believe that the abuses at Abu Ghraib — taken straight from the CIA torture manuals — were the work of rogue subalterns. Now we’re supposed to believe that opening our mail, listening to our phone conversations, and infiltrating our bridge clubs will make us safer, when all the while they’re failing to meet even the minimum standards for preparedness and prevention identified by the 9-11 Commission and dictated by common sense.
I confess to being a wee bit skeptical.
They say there’s a song for every occasion, every circumstance of life. Particularly the less pleasant circumstances (though most of those are country songs). Why do you suppose that is, eh? I mean, what is it about living in a small, damp, shaded area beneath a pancake-vendor’s cart that drives a person to song? Is it the persistent smell of rancid cooking oil? The muttered oaths of disgruntled customers, waiting in vain for a decent stack of jacks? The puddle of stagnant muck that is gradually leeching into my ragged clothes? Well… it’s hard to quantify the precise sources of creative inspiration. It pains me to tell you that, though the shadow of the wrecking ball is not yet upon her, our beloved Hammer Mill is not long for this world. Damn their eyes, those Madagascarian developers…. O defilers of our humble dreams! What kind of upscale tourists or well-pensioned retirees would want to make a new start upon the ruins of this sainted mill? Okay… so perhaps I’m overstating it a little bit. The place smells like a city bus. But… and this is important … it smells better than the bottom of that malodorous pancake stand! And after a few years, I’ve became used to the draftiness, the rusted machinery, the occasional cave-ins, the crumbling brick battlements. Yea, we even started to look forward to them. After all, it’s all just part of the squatter’s lot — living the
dream, as it were, even if it more resembles a nightmare. (What… you can think of a better way to live? I’m listening. Speak louder!) I think the hardest part is watching Marvin (my personal robot assistant) fighting against more than five years of programming that keeps sending him up to the barricaded doorway, only to be turned back again. He’s got a number of routine Mill maintenance tasks filed away in his sophisticated electronic brain, and not being able to complete them makes his circuits smoke like a chimney. (I saw Mitch Macaphee lighting a cigar on one of Marvin’s red hot relay panels just yesterday. Matt and John sometimes warm their hands over the glow when the night air gets brisk.) Hmmm… well, maybe that’s not the hardest part. The hardest part is probably listening to Anti Lincoln make his dictatorial speeches to nobody. Even his low-rent junta generals have skipped town in search of more promising digs. All right, mister anti-president — it’s been three hours. Time to clam up. Jesus, do I miss those massive hammer mill walls! What recourse for the wrongly evicted? Well… there is one possibility, slight though it is. We’ve put a call in to Gung Ho, who’s currently deployed with his mercenaries someplace explosive (and profitable, no
doubt). I figure he might know a guy who knows a guy… who’d be willing to drop a bomb on a guy before they get the wrecking ball in position. Hey, don’t look at me like that. Last chances are last chances, right? Anyway, so far no response from the Gungster. If you happen to run into him (and live to tell the tale), have him contact us at:
agreement, once again stoking the jury with a stack of evidence from unrelated terror attacks and playing tapes of uncle Osama. Even more outrageously, they’ve convicted an NYU grad student — Mohammad Yousry — because he performed his normal duties as translator for the defense team. (See
Meanwhile, the Bush administration is continually setting new benchmarks for its own illegal and extra-constitutional behavior. Just this week it was revealed that the president has issued “signing statements” on a large number of laws passed by Congress during his tenure — these documents essentially announcing his administration’s intention to ignore the law or apply it as they see fit. Their reading of the president’s constitutional authority as commander in chief of the military is extremely expansive, bordering on banana republic-type “strong man” powers. Russ Feingold’s censure motion is designed to call the president on this arrogation of near-dictatorial power and hold him responsible for breaking the law, but it appears the Senate Democrats haven’t got the belly for it. One would think they might want to make an issue of this for the fall elections — you know, position themselves as the party of the constitution, the party of rights and the rule of law, that sort of thing. I for one am not holding my breath. They feel, I’m sure, that if they defend the rights of the accused, it makes them look “soft on terrorism” or, in pop jargon, “gay.”