Be bery, bery quiet...

You, dear reader, are aware that The Washington Post is publishing a series of articles on the expanding role of "security" in America, in response to the 9/11 attacks. The authors of the series have spent two years investigating the ever-expanding super-secret world of secret security secretly designed to keep secret America's secret security. They secretly put together all the secrets they learned on a secret website & blog called www.TopSecretAmerica.com. They describe our secret security and intelligence structure, which has secretly become so bloated and "so secretive that no one knows how much money it costs, how many people it employs, or whether it is making the United States safer." (AP) I kid you not, this is true.

Here's some of what they learned (...and don't tell anyone, as it is secret):

Some 1,271 government organizations and 1,931 private companies work on Top Secret programs related to counterterrorism, homeland security, and intelligence at over 10,000 locations across the country. Um, that's like more than a hundred.

Over 850,000 Americans have Top Secret clearances. Where do I get me one?

In the Washington area alone, 33 building complexes for Top Secret work are under construction or have been built since September 2001. When you go out and count them yourself, please remember to do so discretely.

The (aforementioned) blog will anchor the Top Secret America site providing updates on Top Secret America coverage, original journalism and insight around related national security matters...including a searchable database illustrates information about government organizations that contract out top secret work, companies they contract to, the types of work they do, and the places where they do it. Okay, I pretty much stole most of that paragraph from the AP verbatim. But it makes it even funnier.

A map displays locations of all the clusters of Top Secret activity and some basic information about those areas. In case you get lost?!?

Each of nearly 2,000 companies and 45 government organizations has a profile page with basic information about its role in Top Secret America. Um, really? A profile page for all of the top secret work? How secret is this whole thing anyway? Come on, you can tell me.

... readers can filter searches by companies doing a specific kind of work, all companies mentioned in the story, or all companies with more than $750 million in revenue.

The Post estimates the number of contractors who work on Top Secret programs to be 265,000. Let's see... $40,000 (median salary that I made up...) times 265,000 equals $10,600,000,000. A year... What do you think they spend at Staples on office supplies?

The NSA plans to expand by two-thirds its current size over the next 15 years. Giggle. I thought the NSA was supposed to be ... well, secret.

Do you get the feeling that Elmer Fudd would do a better job of keeping a secret?

1984

No, Van Halen fans, I'm not talking about "Hot for Teacher," although ...heh, heh... I am always hot for teacher. Mrs. Odd is, of course, a teacher and a major distraction for boys above a certain age!

In this case, it is Mr. Orwell and his wee narrative I reference. I read it in 9th grade, which was like, um, forever ago. Or in other terms, 1984 (...the year, not the book) was still in the future. It was one of the few pieces of literature I read in school (as in involuntary, compulsory, 'cause They said so...) that I liked and sort of got the point. I remember distinctly feeling creeped out by the idea of a wall-sized t.v. that never turned off and constantly being monitored. Omnipresent screens, poli-business mega-entities, loss of individualism. It was, frankly, scary-assed fiction.

So I found myself on JetBlue flying to the New Orleans a week or so ago, and I got to thinking about the seat back in front of me. Now there is a phrase I never imagined I'd write. But I did truly find myself contemplating the seat back in front of me. If you have flown JetBlue or other carriers recently, you know what I'm talking about. There is an 8" screen embedded in the rear of the headrest, so you can watch whatever you want to watch during the flight. Or can you?

Okay, so it wasn't a huge wall-sized screen, but when it's only eighteen inches from your face, does the size really matter (Okay, size matters...snicker, snicker)? And you know what? You can't turn it off. Nope. You can dim it 'til it's dark, but "off" is "off" and "dim" is "on, just not bright." Okay, Mr. Orwell, nice call.

So what did I do? I took a picture of the screen, which shows a slightly plump woman staring back at me, hands open in what can only be described as a beseeching gesture. She's sitting on what looks to be comfortable living room furniture, and she is trying to make eye contact with me, I swear. Yeah, I took the picture with my iPhone, which I rarely use as a phone but use constantly to check e-mail, take pictures, watch YouTube videos, and plan my life. The irony of having a computer-camera-radio thingy in my hand, on an airplane, taking a picture of t.v. that doesn't really turn off struck me as very nicely Orwellian. Again, Mr. Orwell, well done. Oh, then I posted the picture to Facebook, so my friends can keep track of my very interesting life.

Let me be clear here, in case you were wondering. We were not going to New Orleans to do mission work. We were going to New Orleans because no one in New Orleans knows who we are, and we wanted to let off some steam. A little of this, a little of that. But a little of this or that without our neighbors leaning over our table or the chance encounter with a student. So, no cameras was the rule. Turns out we sort of ignored the fact that our phones are cameras, but we were pretty good about not taking pictures of every moment, snaring just a few snapshots to capture the crazy that is New Orleans. But I couldn't help notice how many cameras there were, stuck to the sides of buildings, light poles, in lobbies, outside clubs. Even in a city where being anonymous is a right, we still were being imaged an awful lot. How anonymous were we?

People talk about not wanting Big Brother in their lives, but I get the sneaking suspicion that is all talk. Maybe it's a post-9/11 thing, or an outgrowth of the technology boom, or that we are all a bit A.D.H.D., or that we are self-important and need to prove our worth to everyone else, or that we just like gadgets, but for for all the blather that we want privacy and no interference from outside forces, we do spend a lot of time and treasure guaranteeing the opposite is true. I find the irony of this so delicious, I think I'll share my thoughts with some complete strangers. Oh, wait...

"Fuck" Gets a Bad Name

"Fuck" is entirely disrespected and unfairly maligned in today's lexicon. This might be a hard band wagon for some to climb aboard, but I'm here to help you climb on up and get behind "fuck" as the word to use when no other word will do.

First, it can be and often is any part of speech you need. A verb? "I was fucking around on my computer instead of working." An adjective? "I've got a fucking headache." A noun? "The fucker fucked me." Look! Twice in one sentence, as a noun and a fucking verb. An exclamation? "Fuck!" An adverb? "I lost my fucking dumb dog." "Fuck" is fucking versatile.

Secondly, it's like salt. Add just a little for flavor, or a whole bunch for guilty pleasure, even when you know you shouldn't. As an example, you can liven up a simple imperative sentence such as, "Sit down" by adding a little fucking dash of "fuck". Thus, you have, "Sit fucking down." Two shakes gets you "Fucking sit fucking down." You don't even need a fucking exclamation point.

Third, using "fuck" liberally allows you to speak Boston correctly. Anyone who followed the Sox in 2004 knows that Nomar was actually a last name, and that his full name was, in fact, Fuckin' Nomar. Sort of like Cher, Madonna, or Sting, except with a "fuck" thrown in. It works for the Celtics, Bruins, Pats, and Sox in general, too. Right now? It's the Celts, the fuckin' Bruins (lost 4-3 in the playoffs to Phucking Philly), the fuckin' Sox (who are in 4th behind the fucking Rays, the fucking Jays, and those fuckers from New Fucking York), and the fucking Pats and fucking Bill Belichick, who had an awful fucking draft. The Celts will be the fucking Celts if they don't win the NBA championship. No "fuck" means they are winning, and "fuck" means anything less than a championship. Clean and easy to interpret.

But the truly overlooked beauty of the word is this - it is democratic. "Fuck" offends everyone, regardless of race, sex, religion, or creed. "Fuck" is color-blind, deaf to gender, and unflinchingly neutral to all matters of faith. I'm sick of people using "retarded" to describe something or someone really stupid, as there is a real and painful meaning to the word "retarded". I'm equally sick and tired of folks throwing around "gay" for all things dumb or feminine, as one of my closest colleagues happens to be gay, but utterly unfeminine and smarter than 99.9% of the rest of us fucks. I would be happy to never hear "n****r" again, and anyone with an ounce of class should stand up against anyone fucking backward enough to use it. I'd be almost as happy to never hear "bitch", "c**t", "slut", or "whore" to describe any woman. All of those words hurt all women, and frankly usually aren't even accurately applied.

Thanks for fucking reading my fucking post. It is my sincere hope to hear a bit more "fucking" in my daily life, and a lot less of those other cruel, insensitive slurs. If I've offended you in any way, I'm fucking sorry. But at the same time, if you are all fucking worked up about it and took this seriously, you probably need a good hard ...

Fear Sells

"So, first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself -- nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance." - Franklin Delano Roosevelt

I'm a history geek, so I'm often curious about what our ancestors would think about modern American life. It is, in some ways, an idle curiosity, as there is no possibility FDR, my grandmother, or Chester Nimitz (please, insert your own favorite historical figure) are going to show up on my front porch and sit down for dinner, a glass of wine, and have a quick chat about the state of affairs. But it would be cool. Very cool.

So, we are left only with their words, writings, and perhaps our own cloudy memories of the actual lives they lived. If you stop for a minute, can you imagine what Martin Luther King did in the morning when he woke up? Wrote speeches about civil rights or checked on his kids? Made coffee? Checked the lawn for burnt crosses? Imagine what Eleanor Roosevelt did in between her moments of greatness. Shopped for comfortable shoes, maybe. Worried about what Franklin was doing, and perhaps who he was doing it with. Surely, they lead extraordinary lives and shaped extraordinary times, but they also had to live through some very ordinary events. I don't know what they were (shaving? eating breakfast? paying bills?), but I have every faith the giants of history weren't brilliant all the time. Amazing people, but people nonetheless.

So back to FDR's famous quote. The famous opening masks the more important phrase, that "nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance." I would love, as mentioned earlier, to ask him to share his opinion about how our generation is handling fear. There seems to be ample evidence that we not only seem paralyzed by our modern fears of international terrorism, unemployment, stock market fluctuations, cyber-bullying, or rampant gun violence -- to name but a few -- but that we are drawn to stories of macabre and horror with almost an addict's need.

You don't believe me? Okay. I'm not trying to convince you, but turn on CNN or Fox, or your local news. What are the stories about? Kidnapped kids, oil spills, massacres in Iraq, mine disasters, teen suicide, hordes of illegal immigrants, crooked politicians... Need I go on? Even many advertisements are now geared towards making you feel crappy about yourself or your life - your smile isn't straight enough, your credit rating is too low, your daughter is going to get kidnapped out of the mall if you don't have a tracking device on her cell phone. Try to watch the news or the ads impartially, and see if you want to argue.

But why? In my humble opinion is that fear sells. Not exactly a new idea, I understand. But think about it for a minute. 9-11, two wars, a typhoon, a mega-quake, Katrina, the BP spill, Abu Graib; the list of shitty things that have happened in the last ten years seems profound and unique, worse than at anytime in our history. Add to that the 24-7 news cycle, instant and near omnipresent access to news and media. Mr. Orwell, you were off by a mere 26 years - not bad, old salt. It's hard to not be exposed to all of these compelling, heart wrenching, oft-tragic stories.

Step back, though, from the brink. How idyllic do you think life was for a stock broker, say in late 1929? Or for a farmer in Oklahoma in 1933? Or a black man Birmingham in 1955? Or a woman looking for a corporate job in the early 1970's? I don't mean to imply that life is easy nowadays; quite the contrary, especially if you are out of work right now or your mortgage is "under water.' All I'm posing is that the crap we seem to be mired in is just that - crap. Shitty things have been happening to nice people since the first cavemen had his hunting club jacked by a rival tribesman. The difference, then, seems to me to be a matter of how we cope with adversity.

See, I think modern Americans think bad times are a new phenomenon, when in fact bad times have always been there, in between the good times. Even more probable, bad times have always run concurrently with good times. What is different, though, is that we too often think we have some right to be free of fear, pain, loss, or anger. But in truth, there is no such right. In fact, we should be afraid of the influence of social media on our teens, we should be angry when crimes are committed, we should be sad when a young child is taken from their family, we should be worried that an oil company puts profit ahead of safety or environmental concerns.

What we shouldn't do is to succumb to the idea that we are victims, or that we are powerless to deal with what we see as a bombardment of tragedy, or that what we going through in our personal lives or as a society is unique to our times. I recommend that we embrace that we are afraid, but reject that that fear should rule our every decision -- or non-decision. It is okay to be sad, but not at the expense of also recognizing small joys found in the smiles of children or in the kinds words from strangers. I say that while we recognize our losses, we take time to account for our gains. In short, the glass is always and has always been both half-full and half-empty. Only individuals can choose how they see it.

So, fear sells. But don't delude yourself - you can choose to buy it. Or you can choose not to. You are equipped with all of the gifts your ancestors possessed - and perhaps far more -- but you alone can exercise the one truly universal, undeniable American - human? - right; free will. You have every right to retreat, which may make every bit of sense. But you also can advance, even when that course of action may seem to be the irrational choice. But for me, irrationally advancing seems so much more appealing than being rationally in retreat.

Can you think of any other words that describe you?

Little Odd is is filling out his "Letter to My Camp Counselor" for his first overnight camp adventure. There is a list of adjectives that one can circle to describe oneself, including such terms as shy, outgoing, athletic, musical, sarcastic -- no, really -- and a whole bunch more. In his "yes" column are outgoing, athletic, friendly, smart, funny, and excited. In the "no" column are sarcastic (phew!), popular, quiet, shy, noisy, and non-athletic. At the end of the section, there is a blank space preceded by the direction, "Please write any other words that describe you." After some thought, he wrote, "Tall."

It made me wonder what words would I write to describe me. Perhaps philosophical. Definitely sarcastic. Quiet when I'm not noisy. Distracted, stressed, reflective, achy, stubborn, tough, thoughtful, reserved, cautious, polite, dark, optimistic, handy, erudite, and occasionally verbose. Oh, and "Tall." Plus, and I don't know the word for it, but one who possesses unusually large calves.

What word describes you best? Just one word. One word. One. Me? Fortunate.

Shake the Money Tree

On the way to Little Odd's baseball practice tonight, I was able to catch a few minutes of NPR. My commute nowadays is measured in seconds, not minutes, so I have lost touch with NPR. I used to listen to Click & Clack, "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me", and public radio news with near-religious fervor. When I traded in two hour commutes, the loss of quality radio time was small price to pay

Lately my news comes from CNN and the Boston Globe (Boston.com), and while those source are informative, they are closer to junk food for the brain, served in small samples. Tonight I had a chance for a little brain salad, listening to a debate about US debt as it relates to GDP. I was relishing the chance to listen to a rational discourse from intellectuals regarding our economic future.

For awhile, I got what I hoped for. Detailed. Specific. Jargon-filled. Calm, thoughtful, well-presented. Deep. Slightly beyond me, a radio program that makes the listener stretch. It was good and good for me. And then it screeched to halt.

See, one of the guests went partisan. Up to that moment, I was unaware of party affiliation or political slant. Up to that very moment, the back-and-forth was the essence of thoughtful discourse and even exchange of ideas. And "BOOM!", it was as if I was listening to Fox News, news being just a word to put after Fox. What was the offending line?

The speaker, a Republican congressman, speaking about oft-dreamt of, rarely seen reduced spending in Washington, stated, "...My party isn't in control, but when they are, we will be able to seriously discuss reduced spending rather than increased taxes as way to balance debt loads as they related to GDP." Okay, I'm using quotes when I'm really just paraphrasing as best as I can recollect. But I'm close to getting what he said, so bear with me. Rant coming...

Who the HELL is he kidding? The Republicans had the White House and majority control of one or both houses of Congress for the better part of eight years, and just HOW did the Republicans control spending? Puh-lease. Cut taxes? For some. But reign in spending?!? If the Democrats now spend money like drunk sailors, the Republicans spent money like meth-addled lunatics throughout the decade. For the record, during the Clinton era, the Fed ran surpluses. Sure, things were trending down, so I don't blame the collapse of the market, the housing bubble burst, the sub-prime mortgage meltdown, and the whole fucking mess just on Bush. Alan Greeenspan missed a few things, now didn't he? But one thing is clear; nobody -- right, left, or unaffiliated -- has a record of reducing spending at this point.

What the HELL happened to my little radio Nirvana-moment? First, did Mr. Red-State forget that people who believe Republicans can control spending don't listen to NPR? Second, if you said NPR to someone who DOES believe Republicans are the party of fiscal restraint, they would scratch their heads and wonder what the "P" stands for in National Rifle Association. Third, did Mr. Oklahoma-Needs-a-Tea-Party-Militia actually think that the NPR audience, people who would sit still and hang on every word regarding currency policy with China, would miss his quip about the lamentable loss of fiscal sanity under the Republican controlled Congress? Dude... F.U.C.K. You and your weird Alice-in-Wonderland twist on the last ten years. The Distinguished Gentleman from Shang-ri La needs to stop smoking the pipe. And with no offense intended to morons, this guy went from Mr. Worth Listening To to "Oh, what-a-moron, I'm changing the channel to ESPN radio" in a split second.

So to sum up, NPR can't even host a sane, boring, fact-based discourse on US debt policy without some fool throwing out some blatant partisan, pop-culture crap. Yeah, NPR is a liberal haven, but at least it used to be clever liberalism. Tonight, even behind the sometimes-deep discussion, the us-versus-them thing showed up. Maybe I will run for Congress, on a platform of solving our debt problems by growing money trees. What's worse, I'm gonna' win.

Thanks for the Reminder

Dear God,

Thanks for the reminder. Last night, for some reason beyond my understanding, I stopped in my daughter's room. Initially, I suppose I went in to turn off her reading light. You know, to be green. But in the hushed darkness, I quickly found myself sitting on the rug, next to her bed. The rest of the world stopped spinning, and whatever worries I was carrying left me. I found myself sitting on the floor, listening to her soft breathing. She's a light sleeper, so she became aware of my presence shortly. In between sleep and wakefulness, she smiled. "I love you," she whispered. I kissed her on her forehead but didn't get up to leave. She quietly slipped back into full sleep, and I lingered for awhile soothed by her steady, peaceful breathing. For a few moments, I was the best version of myself, the father and man I hope to be. My daughter unwittingly gave me the best gift I've received in a long time. Maybe someday soon, when I can feel the world spinning around me too fast, or when I've made a mountain out of a mole hill, I'll recall her gift and be reminded of what I really am.

Respectfully,

Odd