As a Verizon customer, I recently learned I am in the pool of
Americans targeted by our federal government to collect and listen to bulk cell
phone call and text data. The National Security Administration has been gathering
this information without the knowledge or permission of Verizon customers. Read All About It
|(You know how hot & humid that would be?)|
My first reaction to this awareness was not outrage or
dismay at the government. It was, instead, horror at what I may have said that
could be misconstrued by an NSA gumshoe as potentially harmful to the safety of
our country and result in my arrest and incarceration.
Prison Orange does not look good on me, and I
am the first to admit I am weak. The thought of being sent to Guantanamo Bay
sends shivers to places on my body that should never shiver—mainly because
Guantanamo is in tropical Cuba, and I bet the prisoner’s cells are not air-conditioned. After sitting in my stifling hot cement cube
for about fifteen minutes, I would start making up stories of Jihad starring my
friends and family in order to get back to the American mainland.
|(People on my call list.)|
I decided to look over the contacts on my “favorites” list saved
on my Verizon phone. I analyzed each one as to the potential threat they posed
for my freedom. For the most part, I felt better after thinking through my
recent conversations with each, although I once had talked in detail about how
I could get away with murder to one of my cousins on the list.
The one thing that did worry me was the eccentric
conversations my friend David and I tend to have with each other on a regular
basis. While not literally terroristic, if we were criminal masterminds it
possibly could sound to the NSA as coded language for a plot to wreak havoc on
the innocent. For instance:
|(Not sure who this is, but when I googled David Spiggle, this image appeared.)|
David: “I think now
that I have moved to San Francisco, my odds of becoming bffs with Ashley
are slightly lower.”
Keith: “Don’t say that. Ashley is a world traveler and I’m
sure a Nashville-SanFran flight would mean nothing to her.”
David: “Judds are flying fools.”
This conversation could fall perfectly into some secret
government agency’s metric and statistical flowchart to spell out an attack on
Denver. You just never know.
|(Dora ain't got anything on the NSA.)|
Because of this thought, I began to scan my texts to see if
any of them looked suspicious. What I
discovered was alarming. If the NSA
decides that I am smart enough to develop a code in order to speak with my
conspirators, I am screwed.
The following ten items are texts I have sent to Andy this
past week alone. If you are looking at them from the viewpoint of some sleep
deprived agent sitting in a dark, windowless CIA basement, drinking coffee,
waiting for his big break, you would definitely think you finally had your man.
These are dripping with hidden meaning:
1. The Scoomba isn’t working.
2. The mail keys are hung by the door.
3. Ruby needs measuring tape ASAP.
4. Dumpling dinner from Hal’s Fork will be delivered around
5. Do your parents eat pesto?
6. The computer monitor is showing everything upside down.
7. Amy is having her baby tonight.
8. Let me in so I can get to your sack.
9. Crunchy tacos kick soft tacos ass.
10. You need to burn DVD.
Take my advice: review your texts and cell phone calls. Don’t
end up like me—on the NSA’s short list of illegally-obtained-questionably-sane-but-potentially-harmful
P.S. If you do review your texts and have any good ones that
could be used against you, share them with me.
It’s the least you can do, you heathen.