Saturday, July 13, 2013

When inappropriate is appropriate

I was browsing through a software application that shows me where readers of my blog are finding me, where they are located, which posts they are reading, etc., when I came across this little piece of awesomeness.

Last November, someone from the U.S. House of Representatives server googled the phrase, "gifts for the inappropriate man." Naturally, I popped up on the results. If I am anything, it is inappropriate.

Sorry about the massiveness of this picture, but I wanted you to be able to read it! You can scroll to the right by using the arrows at the bottom of screen.
The genius of this is I am guessing it was probably some poor staffer working for some jerk-head Congressman--I'm looking at you, Mr. Boehner & Mr. Rangel--who treats him or her like crap. The staffer knew he would have to buy a Christmas gift soon for the old codger, so he googled "gifts for the inappropriate man." The obvious choice would have been Rep. Weiner, you know the guy who tweeted a picture of his actual wiener on the inter-web, but he had already resigned at that point.

All I can say, is kudos to you, whoever you are. If ever anyone deserved something from that gift list, it would be a U.S. Congressperson.

If you want to look at the list Google returned to the google-er, click below:

Inappropriate Last Minute Gifts

Sunday, July 7, 2013

An-Cay Ou-Yay Ear-Hay Ee-May Ow-Nay?

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  
Judd 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 noon.

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 citizens.

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.