Big Brother Goes Hard.…Drive, That Is.

We knew the bill would be a whopper when The Big BOPR (see definition below) finally did the math and prepared to pass the collection basket. The White House reckoning from above will now require every taxpayer to toss more than $12,000 into that collection basket when it’s passed down the aisle.

Forwarding the final bill to X-P “W” (see definition below) in Crawford, TX was certainly a tempting dream sequence; however, we’ve been slapped hard with the reality that personal accountability by those in positions of power has heretofore been virtually non-existent. So instead of sending X-P “W” an invoice, we’ve elected to send him a thank you note for plunging a final thrust straight into the heart of the Old Guard.

Seems X-P didn’t stay on the ranch for long anyway. He and Laura decided to call Dallas home, and the media made sure everyone knew they’d purchased a humble estate in the well-heeled suburb of Preston Hollow. Understandably George felt it important to be close to Laura’s alma mater where his think tank and presidential library are to be housed.

A few simple keystrokes on whitepages.com gave us instant access to (what used to be considered) highly personal information cross-linked within the public internet domain, and made finding George and Laura’s new home mailing address and phone number effortless. The ease with which we successfully obtained the Bush’s information was both gratifying and alarming at the same time.

There are two sides to every coin, and when the pendulum swings to the extreme in one direction, it’ll always swing back to the opposite extreme before ultimately finding its balance.

The Old Guard’s excessively secretive ways are being steadily replaced with the public’s demand for transparency in all things, even at the expense of dignity and self-respect. The popular trend toward voyeurisitic fascination, and even obsession, with the private life business of others is indisputable when considering the innumerable reality TV shows dominating network programming on a daily basis throughout the world.

A look in the rear view mirror showed us Steve Martin screaming “the phone book’s here!” in the movie “The Jerk”. It was a reminder of when everyone’s phone number was automatically listed in the large white pages telephone book and if someone wanted their phone number unlisted, it was. Full stop.

Today's Peeping-Tom movement toward complete private sector transparency (some would call that an oxymoron) basically puts every man, woman and child under 24/7 surveillance and makes it essentially impossible to preserve any modicum of personal privacy. We can't help but wonder how much we really need to know about each other’s private lives and what would constitute crossing the line of just too much information in current society.

As our personal and private data flows freely across the world wide web under the guise of freedom of information, social networking websites and the techno pros within large data repositories for identity theft are systematically archiving and cultivating that flow for future use.

The paranoia expressed in previous decades revolving around the watchful eyes of Big Brother rings hollow as we now find society simply handing it all over willingly, without hesitation or limitation. Do we really have control over our identities and private lives anymore?

For another way to pass the buck, see our ‘Dream Sequence’ November 30, 2008 posting "World Forwards Final Bill to ‘W’ in Crawford, TX".

Catching a Few Xe’s

It wasn’t until the final hours of Era X-P “W” (see definition below) that we really began to notice the unquestionable symptoms of Bush Flu (see definition below) in those who’d once been considered immune.

We bled dollars as the legislative powers intravenously administered the large cash infusions these untouchables demanded to staunch further dehydration of their formerly fluid bank accounts. And just because we paid for the medical attention they'd felt entitled to receive apparently didn’t mean they believed us mutually entitled to an accounting of how our blood money was spent.

With the recent changing of the Old Guard comes the abrupt realization that economic survival is now demanding that everyone change with it as well, and one look in the rear view mirror at the many faces of Madonna can show us the way. A master of cyclical reinvention and repackaging, Madonna has successfully managed to keep that “Queen of Pop” crown firmly placed upon her head with no end in sight to her reign.

It comes as no surprise then that Cheney’s Iraqi goon squad formerly known as Blackwater has officially changed its name to “Xe” (pronounced “Z”, oh duh). Word on the street is that Erik Prince had consulted with rock ‘n roll Hall of Famer and artist formerly known as Prince before coming up with the new name.

Like many of the old courtiers who so smoothly distanced themselves from the debris of a bygone regime, Blackwater-now-Xe recognized its economic survival demanded they quickly follow Madonna’s lead. Of course, the bear paw logo synonymous with what used to be called Blackwater would go the way of the old name and be immediately replaced with a flaming rapier’s 3-stroke swish reminiscent of Zorro’s “Z”.

Xe didn’t waste one precious 'new name' moment before announcing itself the global one-stop shopping source for world class services in the fields of security, stability, aviation, training and logistics. While they would never publicly admit to their friendly affiliation with ex-VP Cheney, they’ve secretly agreed to give him complimentary target practice since he’ll only have secret service protection until 2019.

Along with the departure of the cash flow once provided by the old regime went Blackwater’s former image and old loyalties. Most of us know that mercenary loyalties will always follow the gold, regardless of where their training facilities are located. So who will be the highest bidder now?

For more Xe-pansion, see our ‘Dream Sequence’ December 7, 2008 posting "Who’s Talking Like a Pirate Now?"

Camp Fed Takes the Triple (DS)

We had a dream……and in that dream we observed a small herd of wild deer grazing on the dewy morning grasses of Morgantown’s “Camp Fed” minimum security prison peacefully located amid West Virginia’s rolling Blue Ridge Mountains. The deer startled and quickly fled as a hotel-type shuttle van approached the compound with its latest inductees.

It was difficult to identify the three newbies as they emerged from the shuttle van looking like a fraternity trifecta in matching cardigan sweaters because the bright morning sun caused them to instinctively block their faces with arms and hands against the glare. When they turned to enter the facility, we could then see Camp Fed’s three new inmates were I-ROB, Bernie, and Blago (see definitions below).

Our dream flowed on as the threesome processed through formal registration, got secured with new electronic monitoring ankle bracelets, and exchanged their cardigans for the prison’s standard issue khaki uniforms. Their next stop was the media room for inmate orientation.

The privileged trio were shown a specially prepared 15-minute video starring Martha Stewart on how to make the most of their lives on the inside. She reminded them that while Camp Fed may be no Camp Cupcake, it was still a Camp No Dough. They would have to earn their 12 to 40 cents/hour working a full 7-1/2 hour day. Martha further encouraged them by quoting the famous words of Nelson Mandela that “many, many good people have gone to prison”. The video concluded with Martha’s dangled promise to personally host a catered “if you aren’t indicted, you aren’t invited” party at her Westchester County estate upon their release.

We were surprised by how well the trinity adjusted to their new lifestyles.

I-ROB found the Lord and was saved. He renounced his materialistic ways and took a solemn vow of poverty. His intensity was now focused toward brokering the best deal he could with the Almighty in his new position as prison savior of souls (SOS) liaison. Interesting though, even with all that, there was still no forthcoming mea culpa.

BERNIE was thrilled to see his dorm room required no redecorating. Things were in perfect balance with black drab, sterile white and shades of gray. He spent his 7-1/2 hour work days teaching the other inmates how they too could build a pyramid that would put Giza to shame. It's all about the “KISS”....

BLAGO spent his working days calling every publisher he could find with a toll free number looking to sell his story to the highest bidder. He just knew his biography, “One Day a Peacock, the Next Day a Feather Duster”, would reveal the true man behind the myth. When Blago wasn’t pimping his book, he was busy negotiating with the “Morgantown Madam” to get a covert call girl operation off the ground because, well, he knew people who'd pay and wasn’t about to let that go to waste. It's important to take full advantage of every opportunity while it's hot. Some would call that making lemonade out of lemons.

And then we woke up wondering if three really was a crowd. Or was it more of a triangular way to cover their backsides which we suspect came in handy when one of them had the misfortune of dropping his bar of soap in the showers?

For another way to say “Toro! Toro!”, see our ‘In The Rear View Mirror’ January 26, 2009 posting "Taking The Bull By The Horns".