Here I imagined W and crew - who of course read Rosenblog daily - thought I was down with the cause. After all, I've been such a strong supporter (see here, here, here, here, here, and here for just a taste).

Even hung my hide out on the line over this domestic surveillance stuff.

But NOW, they're tracking ME, and Podnah, lemme tell ya: it's S-P-O-O-K-Y.

Today I had to return a basically useless, overpriced leak sealant product to my local hardware store, and there I am, waiting in line, while this very odd conversation takes place right behind me. A 50-something woman in an elaborate brocaded suit coat and fancy long skirt is greeted like a long lost sibling by a typical Seattle guy, another 50-something, but of the faded hippe, scraggly-haired, tightly capped, way-too-effusive, searching-for-meaning-everywhere variety.

Much enthusiastic babble ensues, he complements her on her jacket, and then as I'm closing the deal on my worthless product return, and resultant credit, I hear her tell him where to see a really cool house with special X-mas lights. She describes it all to a T, and adds that the intersection is just a block away from where it really is, which is right next to my house. (I saw hubby put it all up, and yes, it's awesome). Anyway, Mr. FadedHippieDude is so jazzed about all this, that I'm wondering if he's done a line or two of Evo Morales marching powder in his VW microbus minutes earlier.

So he takes a pen and starts writing the supposed location of the great X-Mas lights on his frickin' HAND. I mean, sorry, but how lame is that? I saw a pad right at the cash register, steps away, but no, he's caught up in the moment. I haven't written anything on my hand since college, but this guy doesn't miss a beat. Clousseau takes note, raises eyebrows.

Now remember, thanks to faulty intelligence from brocaded jacket gal, he's writing the wrong location on his hand.

As a community-minded individual interested in helping my fellow Seattle-ites optimize their X-Mas decoration viewing in residential areas, and as someone who wholly believes that idiots writing on their hands should AT LEAST be given the right information, I'm feeling really, really compelled to jump in, and correct her by saying, "OH, what a coinky-dink, I live RIGHT across the street from there, I know those folks, and actually, it's not at the corner of X and Y, but actually, at the corner of X and Z."

BUT, NO, I don't do that.....because THESE days, you don't just volunteer your address in public to strangers. Especially not when Bush's spooks could be monitoring your visits to Asian grocery stores to buy fermented soybean paste that might be from NORTH Korea. No no no no no.

And so it hits me like stormwater gushing through a downspout: this woman - who suspsiciously lingers outside afterward behind my car (taking my license plate number??????) is a gub'mint operative. D'oh! They've wiretapped my phone conversation with my wife just before I left the house. They knew I was headed back to the hardware store. This was all a ruse to get ME, MR. PERSONALITY/MR. NEIGHBORLY DUDE, to verify my residential location, so THEY can further and more confidently surveil ALL my activities, even root through my plentiful recyclables - for signs of nefarious activities which contravene the GOP orthodoxy, further placing W's hegemony and the nation at risk.

After all, I've not exactly been a Team W. player every step of the way. And that can get irritating.

Here I am openly speaking to the administration's laxity on availability of nuclear fuels to terrorists.

Here I am telling George what to do about illegal immigration.

Here I am warning against pandering to the hard-right base.

Here I am suggesting that despite great gains in Iraq, W's administration really, really needs to ensure Iraqi authorities get a grip on Saddam's circus trial.

Here I am suggesting that George's 10th Circuit was off-base on a trippy tea ruling, and that his Supremes had best not follow suit.

The Bush-Rove Machine brooks no dissent and knows no mercy. As the recent domestic spying revelations indicate, they'll stop at nothing. Now, sadly, it is clear - they can't even tell their free-thinking friends from their enemies. George: I'm deeply dispapointed. Call off the dogs, wouldja!

TECHNORATI TAGS: GEORGE W. BUSH, BUSH, SURVEILLANCE, SPYING

Posted by Matt Rosenberg at December 24, 2005 10:35 PM