Subject: Re: Weapons Of Mass Stupidity
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Date: Fri, 18 Jul 2003 15:30:27 GMT
NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 18 Jul 2003 11:30:27 EDT
Organization: Road Runner High Speed Online http://www.rr.com
You little liar. I don't half to worry about the FBI, because I AM AN
I don't steal, nor deal in or take dope!
What are you afraid they might find out about your background?
I also am not some pervert, queer, nor fagot!
If I were scared of the FBI, would I say that in this "politically correct"
You liberal nitwits are really too stupid to take for real.
"Ethic" wrote in message
> Careful : The FB-eye May Be Watching
> Reading the wrong thing in public can get you in trouble
> BY MARC SCHULTZ 07/17/03 :
> (Creative Loafing) "The FBI is here", Mom tells me over the phone.
> Immediately I can see my mom with her back to a couple of Matrix-
> like figures in black suits and opaque sunglasses, her hand covering
> the mouthpiece like Grace Kelly in Dial M for Murder. This must be
> a joke, I think. But it's not, because Mom isn't that funny.
> " The who ? " I say.
> "Two FBI agents. They say you're not in trouble, they just want to talk.
> They want to come to the store."
> I work in a small, independent bookstore, and since it's a slow Tuesday
> afternoon, I figure, "Sure." Someone I know must have gotten some
> government work, I think; hadn't my consultant friend spoken recently
> of getting rolled onto some government job ? Background check, I think,
> interviewing acquaintances ... No big deal, right ?
> Then, of course, I make a big deal about it in front of my co-workers.
> "That was my mom," I tell them. "The FBI's coming for me."
> They laugh; it's a good joke, especially when the FBI actually shows up.
> They are not the bogeymen I had been expecting. They're dressed
> casually, they speak familiarly, but they are big. The one in front stands
> close to 7 feet, and you can tell his partner is built like a bulldog
> his baggy shirt and shorts.
> "You Marc Schultz ?" asks the tall one. He shows me his badge,
> introduces himself as Special Agent Clay Trippi.
> After assuring me that I'm not in trouble, he asks if there is someplace
> we can sit down and talk. We head back to Reference, where a table
> and chairs are set up.
> We sit down, and I'm again informed that I am not in trouble.
> Then, Agent Trippi asks, "Do you drive a black Nissan Altima ?"
> And I realize this meeting is not about a friend.
> Despite their reassurances, and despite the fact that I haven't
> committed any federal offenses (that I know of), I'm starting to feel a
> bit like I'm in trouble.
> They ask me if I was driving my car on Saturday, and I say, reasonably
> sure, that I was. They ask me where I went, and I struggle for a moment
> to remember Saturday. I make a lame joke about how the days run
> together when you're underemployed. They smile politely.
> Was I at work on Saturday ? I think so.
> "Were you at the Caribou Coffee on Powers Ferry ?" asks Agent Trippi.
> That's where I get my coffee before work, and so I tell him yes,
> probably, just before remembering Saturday: Harry Potter day,
> opening early, in at 8:30.
> So I would have been at Caribou Coffee that Saturday, getting my
> small coffee, room for cream. This information seems to please the agents.
> "Did you notice anything unusual, anyone worth commenting on ?"
> OK, I think. It's the unusual guy they want, not me. I think hard,
> wondering if it was Saturday I saw the guy in the really cool reclining
> wheelchair, the guy who struck me as a potential James Bondian
> supervillain, but no : That was Monday.
> Then they ask if I carried anything into the shop -- and we're back to me.
> My mind races. I think : a bomb ? A knife ? A balloon filled with
> narcotics ? But no. I don't own any of those things. "Sunglasses," I say.
> "Maybe my cell phone ?"
> Not the right answer. I'm nervous now, wondering how I must look :
> average, mid-20s, unassuming retail employee. What could I have
> possibly been carrying ?
> More :
> 06.04.03 : Weapons Of Mass Stupidity
> Fox News hits a new lowest common denominator
> BY HAL CROWTHER It's the inviolable first rule of democracy that all
> politicians will praise the wisdom of the people -- an effusive flattery
> that intensifies when they ask "the people" to swallow something
> exceptionally inedible. What the people never hear from anyone, or from
> anyone with further ambitions, is the truth. If a public figure wishes to
> leave the stage forever, a sound strategy is to offer his fellow citizens
> candid and disparaging assessment of their intelligence.In the aftermath
> the conquest of Iraq, as we awake to the bewildering possibility of a
> States of Asia, the patriotic pageantry and premature gloating call to
> an obsession that once gripped the great French novelist Gustave Flaubert.
> (In my recklessness I ignore the halfwit embargo on all things French.)
> Flaubert, according to W.G. Sebald, became convinced that his own work and
> his own brain had been infected by a national epidemic of stupidity, a
> relentless tide of gullibility and muddled thinking which made him feel,
> said, as if he were sinking into sand.
> More :