Kudos (and thanks) to reader Ken who pointed out (what I suspected but neglected to confirm) that the people all in a lather over the NSA "controversy" are misquoting Ben Franklin!
One thing that bugs we about the whole situation is the smear job they are doing on Ben Franklin by misquoting him. His original quote was,"They who give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety."
By removing the words "essential" and "temporary" you can interpret it to mean that no liberties should ever be given up for any amount of safety.
The other problem I have with the people using this quote to attack the NSA is that there is a huge difference between privacy and liberty. Allowing them to listen in on phone calls means giving up some privacy but it does not take away your liberty to make the call.
Morons. Complaining about someone having taken something they still have.
OK, the time has come for me to get off my (hopefully) temporarily oversized ass to say something about this stupid NSA "wiretapping" controversy.
These people might as well be wearing black hoods, they're living in the dark of unreality as it is anyway!
Where were these "protesters" when pretty much every President since Reagan (Clinton included) allowed exactly the same thing? Oh yeah, in diapers, I forgot.
And now they are in college where, I would have hoped, they would learn the following:
PHONE OWNER: "CLICK!"
Then what? Should they ask the FBI to physically follow Mr. or Ms. phone owner? Is this any less preferable to listening in to a conversation and either
a) discovering it's just Aunt Nissa from Saudi Arabia calling with her recipe for Cous Cous
or
b) discovering that it's cousin Nidal calling to say "It's a go for Tuesday, pick up your bomb vest at locker #245 at the Port Authority in NYC" or some coded version thereof...
I'm gonna go with NO, it's not preferable. Watching a guy talk on the phone is just not that telling, you know? If you can't hear what he's saying, you'll know as much about his conversation as watching him take a piss will tell you about his health (actually, even less than that).
So what then? Should we just kick back and feel all good inside knowing that if when we got blown to bits by the guy whose conversation we didn't to intrude upon (or the guy who was calling him from overseas, or just down the block or wherever, as if it matters), at least our collective conscience was clear?
Know what cracks me up about all this? The very same people getting all exericsed about this nonsense are those who probably talk at full volume on their cell phones in public places and question the necessity of asking ANYONE, whether they are a U.S. citizen EVER for ANY REASON.
Want to vote? Not a citizen? SURE, why not? I mean, the U.S. probably controls your destiny whether you live here or not, might as well let you have a say in what we do, right?
Want to drive? Have at it!
Want to avoid paying taxes (other than sales tax of course), sure, who doesn't?
Want a free education and healthcare for yourself or your kids? And why wouldn't you? Step right up! What RIGHT do we have to question your citizenship?!
What's that Mr. President? You want to allow your techno-spies to check into the content of a call placed from a number that triggers alarm bells to a number that might or might not belong to someone who might or might not be a citizen who might or might not mean us any harm? HOW DARE YOU without checking their citizenship FIRST?! What if they're American? An American citizen has RIGHTS dammit!
And even if the NSA did check on the citizenship (and rights afforded therefore, I guess) of both callers, so what? Have these morons never heard of Tim McVeigh? Can you imagine how many Oklahoma families only wish that the NSA or FBI or someone had intercepted a call between him and Terry Nichols before it was too late?
Ben Franklin was a wise old bugger about some things, but he had his flaws too. Perhaps these students of history ought to study some of the things said by another wise American, namely Justice Robert H. Jackson. He may have written the dissenting opinion in Terminello v. Chicago, but his words live on and have as much (if not more) relevance today than they did in 1949 when he wrote them:
"The choice is not between order and liberty. It is between liberty with order and anarchy without either. There is danger that, if the court does not temper its doctrinaire logic with a little practical wisdom, it will convert the constitutional Bill of Rights into a suicide pact."
I like to think even Poor Richard himself would have agreed with the judge on this point.
I just realized that my birthday this year as expressed in Roman numerals is XL (as in EXTRA LARGE).
Oh the pain! Bad enough to be turning forty in three (painfully) short months (literally, from tomorrow), but to have that reminder that I have some work to do in the physical size department is just too cruel.
How did I figure this out? Well, thank the Panthers for that! With them making headway towards the Superbowl, I was prompted to look up some info. on the NFL website and saw the logo for this year's game--a game that was born the same year as yours truly. And there it was: Superbowl XL.
*sniff*
I can't decide which I want more--to be younger, or thinner...
Or your spouse, or your dog, or anyone you love and haven't hugged today (if it's possible to hug them, if not, call them and tell them how much you love them).
A mom in my mommy group died on Saturday. She just DIED. I'm talking 35 years old, inexplicably keeled over and stopped living suddenly. Not sick, not in a high-risk group, nothing. Autopsy results are pending, but the theory is that it was a blood clot or aneurysm.
I didn't know her personally--our group has 1700 members--but she apparently lived in my neighborhood and I've seen her posts on our online bulletin board (as recently as Friday in fact). She has a 19-month old daughter and a husband, and the group has set up an education fund for the little girl. I donated, but it doesn't seem like enough.
The whole thing has me chilled to the bone. I'm suddenly realizing not only how precarious life can be, but how much more terrifying mortality is when you have kids. Sure, I don't want to die, but more importantly I don't want to LEAVE THEM. We're on the ball, we have insurance and wills, but our guardianship situation leaves a whole lot to be desired (it's a Lifetime made for TV movie in the making basically), and there's not much we can do about it other than never fly anywhere together but without the kids, and consider taking separate cars when we go out on "date night" somewhere alone.
No, I'm not paranoid, I'm realistic. Shit happens, as this story plainly illustrates.
I'm also realizing it's high time I get my ass in gear and start journaling for my girls. I started a journal for Emma when I was pregnant with her, but stopped when she got sick at 6 months. Didn't start up again until I was preggo again, but then quit again because of morning sickness. Lame, pathetic excuses. I should have typed the darn thing from the git-go. Lord knows I can type ten times faster and more easily than I can write. Plus, my penmanship is lousy.
I want my girls to know me if something should happen. I can't count on any living person to tell them who I was or what I was about, and I sure can't count on anyone else to convey to them what I'd want them to know. I don't have a mother and I know only too well how much it hurts to go through major life events without one, but moreover without even knowing what advice she would have given me if she were here. Even if all I can do is tell them over and over and over again how very much they are loved--in a way that's permanent, in case something happens to me before they are old enough to remember hearing me say it (the eight million times a day I do say it).
I guess if they want to they can read this blog, but I'm not so sure that's the me I want them to remember most. Sure, they should know that side of their loony mom, but they should also know what THEY were like as babies in a way that only I can tell them, only I can document.
It's amazing how the death of a stranger can affect you so much, but this has. So like I said, go hug someone and make it count.