While I sit in an ergomatic rotating chair, drinking my morning cup of chai, I ponder

Knock knock.

Who's there?

By Section 215 of the Patriot Act, I'm not required to inform you of that.



Lucky for us, our government is well on its way from mere verging on totalitarian tendencies to full blown panoptical oversight. In the future, Karl Rove won't have to illegally expose the CIA operative identity of an official's wife to exact revenge on him: he'll be able to just send the men in the black limos to pick both of them up, along with all their friends and family, and anyone who they've ever invited to a dinner party, or stood in line with at the drugstore, and still remain perfectly within his legal rights as shadowy under-dictator. The only things we can do now are:

A) Blow some stuff up, and die heroically in a hail of CIA gunfire
or
B) Pray that the Chinese floating their currency will trigger a collapse of Schwarzchildean proportions, before we can infect the rest of the world with our own brand of homespun, mom-and-pop-and-apple-pie fascism
or, most likely
C) Write lengthy, impotent diatribes semi-perennially declaring the doom of our civilization, possibly with helpful illustrations.