On Privacy
All these people freaking out about this NSA phone registering thing has got me feeling a little insecure. What do you all got to hide? Am I missing out on some secret, society? Who are you all calling? Because I could really give two shits of a lamb’s tail if the NSA, CIA, DEA, MI3, or TNA knows who I’m dialing. I can’t believe that anyone would really be that interested. But obviously everybody else has real big things going down. People are making some shady calls. People must be plotting and planning some serious shit for everyone to be all up in arms about their over-the-phone privacy. Because, in less you got something really major in the works, I don’t see what you’re all so worried about.
The NSA isn’t going to bust in on your aunt Ida’s surprise party anytime soon. They’re not going to break down the door during your next booty call. In fact, they’re not even going to show up when you buy a bag of weed from your friend Brando with a funny mustache. I think we all can rest assured, unless your dialing Afghanistan, Suddam Hussein, or a suspected splinter cell, we’re all probably pretty safe to make whatever calls we want.
The thing is, all our big brother knows, is who we called. And so what if he makes fun of you? Are you really that ashamed about a guy in a backroom at AT & T knowing precisely how many times you called your long-distance girlfriend last month? Or that you drunk-dialed your ex? Or that you voted for Elliot twenty-seven times? The only thing you should be embarassed about is your bill.
I, for one, feel privileged to have my privacy invaded. Having my phone tapped makes me feel tough. Like a bad-ass. Like I’m in the mob or something. Like I’m actually doing something cooler than calling my friend Peter to discuss times to go see the Da Vinci Code. I’m honored to be bugged.
But not other people, they feel violated. What kind of self-righteous bullshit is that? You wish the NSA cared who you called. You wish anyone did. You wish you had a reason to be registered. Recognized. Reviewed. Analyzed. Considered. Suspected. Arrested. Tortured. Drugged. Released. Then at least you’d have a story to tell. Something to call home about.
In fact, I might just call up a terrorist to see if I get detected. See if I can’t get myself singled out of the database. I’m tired of being just another number. I want to be a blip on the screen. I want to see if I can get away with it. I know a little Arabic. It’s like Hebrew, right? I’m going to call my friend the Nine of Spades. Let’s see what happens.
We live in a society where people are willing to have their lives taped, but not their phones tapped.
Privacy is false security. You’re never really private. Not in our society. You’re private until you do something wrong. Then, you’re public. Everything about you. Your family, your picture, your record, none of that is safe. As soon as you screw up, it’s all accessible to the public. You can be audited, profiled, published, and followed around by the paparazzi.
Nothing’s ever really private. That’s why we have a social security number. So they can keep track of us at all times. Our finances aren’t private. We got to fill out W2’s and W3’s. Our cars aren’t private. Show us your license and registration. Our past isn’t private. We need certificates. Our freedom isn’t private. Stamps on our passport. We don’t have any private parts to us.
But, all of a sudden this phone thing is over the line with people? I don’t get it. What are you all, paranoid? It’s not like phone-calls only started being kept on record yesterday. Or four Septembers ago. There’ve been lists at phone companies since Alexander Graham Bell spilled penicillin. It’s just that now the incompetent government has access to them. Big deal. Like their going to put two and two together and figure out your cheating on your wife.
The government don’t care about who you’re calling. No one does. They only care about who’s calling places that shouldn’t be called. They care about if someone their curious about who they’re calling is calling someone else their curious about who is being called. They care about people that probably shouldn’t be making calls.
Which for the record is ridiculous. Like two terrorists are right now planning their next stunt on their side-kicks. Sitting in traffic. Text-messaging threats to pass the time. Oh, wait, I have call-waiting, it’s Ali Baba the explosive experts on the other line. Hold on.
But it’s just as ridiculous for us to over-react to the knowledge that somewhere out there in the ether of countless calls, cellular, land-locked, and across the globe our number pops up on a list. It’s not like someone is listening in on us whining to our significants that we never do anything anymore.
Unless maybe you are doing something. A little dangerous. Real risky. Something that the powers that be should definitely not know about. Then give me a call.
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