We are watching...

It has come to light that the NSA is monitoring my phone correspondence. This did not come as a surprise to me. Personally I expected it. I have exhibited subversive behavior...or something. I will briefly relate the same story twice:(actually happened to me) Version 1: Beginning in 1999 I traveled to Israel to study. I met people there, people with an agenda. They were not "Zionists". At the time my government supported a Zionist agenda, of sorts. I traveled throughout Israel with my new associates. We crossed the border into Egypt together, we were in the Golan heights less than seven days later. We requested that our visas not be stamped on our passport pages, but on paper inserts. We entered the West Bank. In subsequent years I stayed in touch with these individuals. I traveled to Paris on more than one occasion to meet with one associate, and then again to New York City. The other associate visited Washington DC and I met with him. On each visit, no "tourist activities" took place. Meetings were held in apartments of friends, or small cafes. In subsequent years I traveled to South Africa, not too exciting... The would-be drug export hub of Zihuatanejo, Mexico, maybe exciting, and finally Baja California. Who knows what went on there... Version 2: In 1999 I won a scholarship that landed my redneck self in a sweet apartment in Jerusalem Israel. I had a kitchen which made me popular with my student friends. I met a lady, who was nice, very pretty, and I think fascinated by what I will call, "my rural charm," that's putting it nicely. I was a jackass in an equally cosmopolitan and partisan city. I went on a school sponsored trip every weekend I was in Israel accept one trip to Sinai to swim with dolphins. This trip was fun, but a bummer, because it's tough to get a beer in the Egyptian hinterlands. The only other exception was a trip to Ramallah, which did feel a little deviant, but not for reasons you would think. There is a native dessert served there, I think it's called Kanafa or something like that. If I remember correctly, it is a sugar coated fried cheese. Pretty sweet. Though romance did not blossom, a friendship did between myself and said pretty lady. She introduced me to friends of hers, and in subsequent years I would visit her, and they would visit me, and we'd have beers, because who goes to museums anyway. Trips to South Africa, and Mexico grew out of meeting more friends, and wanting to go on vacation and surf great waves. The surf pretty much universally sucked...Se la vie. Obviously this is a truncated version of the story, but it's all in how that facts are illuminated. I can't help but notice that the innocent doofus version is slightly longer than the incriminating one. Who's got time to waste on details when they are looking at so much information. Certainly not a mid-level civil servant tasked with preserving the American way! I'm not sure what any of us should feel about leakers, or having our privacy invaded. I will reel it all in here though. My sweet town, where no terrorism has happened to date, as far as I know, has cameras. They are mounted in public places, and they take still shots. They take still shots because we cannot afford video. I heard the proposition of cameras discussed at a town council meeting where the consensus was that video monitoring of the town would be a good thing. When the town manager explained that this was not possible for economic reasons he sited evidence from the still cameras that were already installed. YES THAT'S RIGHT, THE CAMERAS THAT WERE ALREADY INSTALLED!! Obviously this was prior to the meeting discussing weather or not we were going to install them. I think this is all in the name of preventing TV theft, but humor me for a moment. A different story twice (did not happen to me, but totally believable). Man walking on bike path passes attractive minor in bikini. Man begins striking his legs--some sort of nervous tick. Minor becomes nervous. Places 911 call. Man appears agitated, retires to bushes and removes pants, and begins frantically pawing at groin. Police arrive. Minor is crying. Man is arrested. Still photos of man with hands on genitals--damming evidence. Or Man walking on bike path feels something crawling on his calf. Awkward adolescent girl in bikini passes man examining his calf. Awkward adolescent girl has been nervous and uncomfortable for roughly three years. Man makes her feel more nervous and uncomfortable. Man discovers multitude of ticks/fire ants/whatever swarming his legs. Man is suffering, but knows it is not appropriate to remove pants on Duck Road Bike Path. Man retires behind bush to examine self and attempt to mitigated personal damage. Adolescent places 911 call. Paramedics are directed to bush and able to spare man unnecessary infection and suffering. It is obviously never this cut and dried. I accept the fact that my desire to have what I write read puts me on the world wide web. But we have to draw the line somewhere, and it will be a crooked moving line. But we have to put in the work. It is absolutely unacceptable that "meta data" is being gathered on all of us for no reason. It may also be dangerous to value complete privacy over safety.

Open Season

Memorial Day weekend means different things to different people. In Duck, it means the visitors will arrive in force, and be here at least through labor day. Local's cars are plastered with bumper stickers that chronicle a myriad of opinions on the subject. They range from sincere, "sign of welcome.." sorts to disparagements of regional driving ability (driving style if you consulted the disparaged party). Some go as far as likening tourist season to hunting season. Suffice it to say, though opinions vary our economy is dependent upon our visitors, absentee owners and tourists alike. For that reason they are welcome. I must make an attempt to understand their presence though, and what it means to me and my community. In short, they are an inconvenience that enriches our community, in the best case. In the worst case we are the exploited party in what can only be characterized as a prostitution of--or perhaps more accurately--the rape of our community. It all depends on the behavior of the guest. I'll go dark first in an effort to end on a high note. On their worst behavior, visitors arrive in a flashy vehicle of some sort. They shout from the cockpit of their usually topless, jackass mobile at cyclists sharing the road and whistle inappropriately at under age passerby modeling swimwear their mothers thought was a bad call--they are now certain of this hunch. They go on to toss empty beer bottles from their machismo floats, on their way to restaurants, where they complain that their meal was not as familiar as their neighborhood Applebee's. They get drunk, and tip poorly. They attempt to drive two blocks home, maim or kill an innocent passerby. All parties at the scene deny that they were the driver. And they return perennially. Hence the snarky bumper stickers. Fortunately they are the minority. The majority strike a much more familiar chord. The holiday family get together. I encourage a listen to Robert Earl Keen's "Merry Christmas From the Family." Elements of it are inappropriate and embarrassing, but so is family. Tourist season is metaphorically like hosting some ridiculous family reunion. You are anticipating your extended family's arrival, we'll say for the Fourth of July week (can you feel the heat and humidity). You've casually prepared for weeks. You've finally organized your garage, the foul weather, back-up gathering location. You didn't want to clean it up and turn it into party headquarters. You know it will set you back weeks on your high performance riding lawn mower customization, but you make the sacrifice. They are family. They are entitled to your hospitality. You've cut the grass and mulched the flower beds. You don't want to seem like some sort of hack, your "spouse" has encouraged you to put your best foot forward. As you anticipate your extended family's arrival your mind is consumed with two thoughts. One: you are much more put together than you feel like you will be able to communicate--or, more accurately--you can't help it that the damn package store was out of the good margarita mix, why does you sister in law insist on drinking top shelf tequila if she's just going to wreck it with mixers anyway? Two: You know the second cousins said they were more than happy to sleep on the hide-a-bed in the den, but you also know that if they aren't uncomfortable there, they will definitely make you uncomfortable being there. Faced with this, you know from experience that the following will happen: At least one party will arrive inexplicably early. At least one party will stay inexplicably late. You will wash an unbelievable amount of dishes, even though you remember providing compostable paper plates and silverware at every meal (five a day!). No one will notice or comment on amenities that you improved upon or expanded from last year. No one will thank you for hosting--yet again. Someone will break something. It will cost you a lot. Though these people are extended "family," the whole experience will stress your immediate family. You will have an inexplicable surplus of food. You will have an inexplicable deficit of beer. We've all been there, or will be. Now imagine either being assaulted by thugs or visited by family for a period of three months. . . . Open Season.