Let a few friends know that I planned to change my e-mail address. Close a 30-year technology gap. Flush the toilet. Start over with BFFs.
Thinking about that, I laughed aloud in my home office ... and out of nowhere a robot wanted to know if I wanted paper or plastic or platinum handcuffs.
Huh?
My computer "minotaurs" my behavior? To what good end?
There are 330 million residents in America. The best good is all of them agree on which fashion handcuffs to choose? Now this is scary. I didn't know I was being "monitored." Without my knowledge or consent. But I am.
AND YOU ARE, TOO! I would say I am under surveillance. But our benign overlords hate that term. They prefer this: I am simply being monitored.
OK: I figured the "deep state" was nuts because the people who spoke about it were CLEARLY nuts (newly elected GPO house reps from MO) ....
Nothing about the "deep state" (Plan A: pull aluminum covers over one's head; tuck tightly; press microwave button labeled POPCORN) made sense.
Like there were two kinds of gravity.
Gravity one: your pants fall down. Gravity number two: your pants stay up ... but your neighbor's pants fall down, exposing his bony knees.
Oh, shit