tag words. scary thing in a world where, hey! guess what? the library of freakin congress, where you couldn't einstein your way through their insane copyright submissions for the last hundred years, now has every damn thing you ever didn't think the better of saying, er tweeting logged into their space pod for the future archive. aint it grand.
problem is, this here blog is about as effective for addressing the problem as say, all my others about the war and the other war, and the other wars too. ie, not at all. just more plethora. the new prez can still walk right over constitutional anything and institute whole new law forms any day he like. so can congress. so apparently can the library of congress. aint no thang.
redress? petition? riot? nope. file paperwork to the supreme court and keep working your day job while you wait for the reply. and the re-filing. and the delays. and the lost case, and the re-filing. and then at last, 18 months later, a court date to present any additional substantive materials to demonstrate why you think it is un-f'ing speakable that without signatures or agreement or privacy considerations or any constitutional regard whatsoever, we now have our not-private-because-they-are-posted-to-the-public-timeline conversations logged for posterity. be so cool if everyone in there filed copyright suits against the LOC, infringement and royalties and the whole nine yards ;) just think, 50 million lawsuits, how fun.
allow me to illustrate a timeline: wire-tapping circa watergate. "security" hidden cameras installed in every parking garage, and then every mom and pop in the country. "this conversation may be recorded for training purposes". i'm not cranky, i just like to be asked. based on my understanding of the inherent qualities of being an american, most esp that stuff about speech/press/assembly/redress rights to. obeying the posted speed limit on a public roadway-fine; it's a given. archive my speech which is... copyrighted by me and me alone? first you need my signature, then you need to pay me a royalty.
going through the airport the other day i had my boots fondled and then my scarf and then me, and a wet cloth passed over some materials to see if any "residue" showed up- i assume they were looking for semen stains or something, blood spatters? they said something about explosives and such but how my boots would've gotten into that sort of scrape i can't imagine. the touching and fondling is bad enough, these frigging pervs can't just get the fuck out of my way and let me travel in peace without a bunch of mindless kowtowing to the biggest scam since the clotheless emporer. but then, talk of explosives? is that an accusation? cuz i like to know when i am being accused of something. or anyone else is either.
sure takes the fun out of flying. i love flying, i love airports. watching planes take off and land is an old pasttime of mine, i love it. if i ever feel out of touch with say the larger picture or the world pulse, i just go watch the flights at the airport and try to imagine how many people with how many lives and stories and best dinner outfits are packed and standing inline, waiting to see whomever in a handful of hours on the other side of the world. and each one? full up with: dreams, of their own, for loved ones, hopes, real and imagined stories-every holy thing all gathered up and it's only 9 am and there's still a whole day of flights left. (btw. the number of tag-triggers in this one post is now huge.)
this country has finally dumbed down so completely no one even remembers a time when you were actually expected to think for yourself, and speaking up was how to impress, not get hit w the storm troopers' taser. it's fucking terrifying out there. if i hear one more person actually say president obama with respect i think i'm going to vomit. like the man's name makes him any different from the last guy. and saying it has anything to do with his color just makes you out for the racist you actually are.
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