tap, tap! who’s there? it’s the NSA!

Naturalized American citizens from ‘rogue’ countries are usually aware that they are being watched and listened to by the government, especially if they still maintain close ties with their country or somewhat unsavory characters from its past. It’s acknowledged and shrugged off—even expected. The sporadic phone noises from a badly-installed wiretap give it away. Or the FBI agents snapping photos from the hill above the family’s reunion party. My best friend growing up was a part of such a ‘foreign’ community and we always joked about it—apologizing to whichever agent was listening on the phone for the boring quality of our calculus homework conversation, or jokingly searching for the surveillance team at community events in order to politely offer them something to eat from the buffet. It was all fun and games until the 9/11 terrorist attacks, when the government started pounding down doors and hauling people off into the night without any explanation or warrants. Some of these people were asked questions and released. Some were shipped to other countries so that they could be ‘asked’ questions. And some disappeared completely and have been missing for years.

So I’m understandably disturbed by the government’s circumvention of established wiretapping protocols to hunt down terrorists within our own country. This whole business rubs me the wrong way, and despite the administration’s assurances that are hunting ‘terrorists’ using legal channels, I’m still extremely wary. But I’ll give them a chance to explain themselves, so let’s look at the facts:

In June of 2005 President Bush discussed the successful break-up of a terrorist cell in California with Neil Cavuto of Fox News. Bush stated:

"I was very impressed by the use of intelligence and the follow-up. And that's what the American need to know, that when we find any hint about any possible wrongdoing or a possible cell, that we'll follow up — by the way, honoring the civil liberties of those to whom we follow up. In other words, we're just not going to pick up the telephone and listen to somebody without a proper court order. That's protecting the civil liberties of Americans."

Right. Moving on.

Bush is now asserting that he informed the (minimum) number of people in Congress about the warrantless NSA wiretapping, and therefore had an ‘executive’ right to conduct it. This issue is already pretty damn shady, and I personally doubt that this NSA operation was on the up and up, but a bigger problem looms on the horizon. If this warrantless wiretapping and circumvention of court approval is deemed ‘legal’ by the review panel, the lines of legality will go into flux. There were already adequate processes in place for the government to perform wiretapping on foreign-US calls, but they were not used (as he claimed in June 2005). Why not? I suspect it had nothing to do with process and everything to do with whom the government wants to listen in on, free of documentation and review: no warrant = no paper trail (at least not one that can be followed through the usual channels). I don’t mean to sound like a paranoid conspiracy theory nut, but this should certainly set off alarm bells in anyone’s brain. Not that I’m naïve enough to believe that this sort of undocumented listening-in didn’t happen prior to this. It’s just that before we’ve always acknowledged and called it what it actually is—under the table, illegal-yet-conducted surveillance. Now the administration is gerrymandering the rules and labels mid-game, and that’s just unacceptable. If someone stopped the NCAA Championship game at half-time and changed the height of the hoops and length of the court, people would be extremely upset. And that’s with a mere five bucks on the game—not their civil liberties. In fact, if we could only find a way to link the NSA wiretapping scandal with the Final Four we might finally be able to rustle up an appropriate amount of popular outrage over this issue. It’s ridiculous, but the idea has merit. Maybe the Democrats should divert some of that 2008 campaign money to hiring an Evil Genius. Considering how the last couple elections have gone, it might be well worth the investment.

See this for an analysis on the implications of the secrecy surrounding illegal eavesdropping by government agencies.


And see this for more reasons why re-directing power from the courts might not be such a good idea.

the heart of darkness—not so bad after all

This morning I went to the DMV to (finally) finish registering my car in the grand State of California. I had steeled myself for some major distress and frustration but everything was fairly quick and easy. This unexpected simplicity left me a little shell-shocked, but soon transformed into a warm, fuzzy feeling once I hit the highway. Now I’m confused. Did I just have a good DMV experience? As this goes against everything I believe in, my gut is screaming no! no! but maybe I should reconsider my long-held belief that spending time at the DMV is second only to gouging one’s eyes out with a spork. I mean, if I’m going to claim a certain amount of understanding for radical, suicide-bomber terrorists, Lord knows I should be able to apply the same logic to DMV workers, right?

Therefore, I take back every bad thing that I’ve ever said about the DMV. Well, almost. They’re still not great at communicating their processes. Or helping you. Or hiding their sarcasm for those who do not understand the intricacies of the motor vehicle registration universe. But they’re aiight. They deal with a ton of people every day, in a variety of languages, and sift through mounds of paperwork for each case. That has to be frustrating as hell. Sure, I might only be there for four hours, but they’re stuck there for eight. Every day (except for national holidays, Mondays, every other Saturday, and random unannounced ‘closed’ days). When the job-suckiness factor is properly accounted for, it seems strange that there aren’t more crazy DMV worker shooting sprees. Geez—compared to these people, postal workers are pussies.

And I’ve discovered some good things about the DMV. For example, their all-business attitude and categorized ticket system got me in and out of their faces under one hour. Considering the fact that I had brought a copy of the New Yorker and a small notebook in which to write my life memoirs, I was pleasantly surprised at the short amount of time it actually took to get my motor affairs in order. And the woman who helped me was very nice. This impressed me because she looked to be about 14 months pregnant, and that can’t be good for a chick’s mood. Plus, I sat next to a bunch of ex-convicts talking about their upcoming court dates, developing strategies to avoid the state pen, and chatting about their mothers. By and large, the overall Calvin Klein commercial mood of the DMV was “joviality”, not the usual “suffering” or “brain hemorrhage” that I’m accustomed to. Nice.

Now if only I could get the goddamn hexagonal screws off my fucking license plates…

brought to you by any form of birth control (really—just pick one!)

While channel-flipping last night I came across this hideous sight:



Uggghhh, I thought, how delightful—a TLC makeover for the world’s most unsightly haircut! This woman’s bangs and sideburns have taken over her head and some charitable reality show is going to rescue her and give her tips on wearing straight-legged pants and pointy-toed shoes!

Alas, such was not the case.

Instead, I was sucked into a horrific roller-coaster of conservative nutism. You see, although the fashion victim who caught my eye had indeed been mugged by a bad ‘80s hairstyle and doily collar, she was not on TV for a makeover. She was on TV because in her 14 years of marriage she had had 15 children (with one on the way) and her family was in the process of building a 7,000 square foot house—under their own man-power. That’s right. Who needs a contractor when you have twin 6-year-olds who can lay brick and tile the kitchen?

They mesmerized me. When the family went on vacation (to a home-schooling conference in Texas—yee-haw!) they all dressed in red outfits so that they’d be able to easily identify each other in a crowd. (This brought back traumatic memories of another creepy family dressed entirely in red flannel.) They were like a field of blond poppy-elves, swaying under Mother Sun’s determinedly cheerful stare. Or like shiny waves of blood cascading through the doors of a sinister elevator.

When I awoke from my trauma-induced seizure the show was nearly over. Time for the coup de grâce. When asked what she says to people who ask her why she has so many children, she beamed eerily and replied, “Saying there are too many children is like saying there are too many flowers.” I was floored. What flawless logic. Everyone likes flowers! Well, not people who are allergic to pollen. And not necessarily the flora that shoots out of someone’s vagina every spring to be raised in subservience to the boy-flowers. But still—they are beautiful.

Dear. God.

Somewhere this morning there is a Planned Parenthood worker lying in a pool of their own blood in front of a TLC-tuned television. Police will be baffled as to what wholesome program could have possibly driven this poor soul to suicide, but I will know the answer…


See this for some biting (and often hilarious) commentary on the show.

And see this if you enjoy long walks with God and constant child-producing romance.

things you learn at office luncheons

Concert ticket: $15
Custom shredded jeans: $45
Hair mousse: $3
Humiliating co-workers: Priceless

Detoxx (circa 1989), before they became reclusive engineers

& more

I found this headline almost as disturbing as Frank's post.