Be Afraid. Be Very Afraid.
Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," radical righeousness and deity devotion for folks who know that things fall apart! The center will not hold, so have a seat on the periphery. It has a nicer view too.
I'm too tired at night to watch the news, but my dearly beloved (29 years my only Valentine) tells me that our Fearless Leader vows our country will soon be struck by a terrorist blow that will make 9/11 look positively kittenish.
Is kittenish a word? Or is it kitten-like?
Fearless L. is using this tactic to defend government use of public phone companies as handy dandy spying machines.
So let me get this straight. I live in:
1. New Jersey, within
2. 4 miles of the "murder capital of America," which is
3. Due east of every coal-burning power plant in the nation, which are
4. spewing mercury into my air, which is
5. super-heated by global warming, which doesn't bother me because
6. I'm trying to teach a nervous teenager to drive on the turnpike in
7. New Jersey.
On any given day, at any given moment, you and/or I can meet death. We will do it either alone or with others, either slowly or in a snap. But we're gonna do it. It's gonna happen.
So thank you, Mr. President, for feeling you need to monitor my phone calls. I'm sure you're very tired of hearing me making doctor's appointments and hair dressing appointments and talking to Geico about my car insurance and to my cousin about my sister. So, Sir, give up spying on me, and leave everyone else alone already too, unless you go through the proper legal channels!
Oh, for the love of fruit flies. Can you believe I just used "proper legal channels" in a note to George Bush? As if he would know what those were.
AND HER RIGHT TO PRIVACY