“Well!” you are probably asking yourself today. “What else can go wrong?”
As if we didn’t have enough to worry about with Rolling Stones guitarist Keith Richards falling out of palm trees. With this veteran rocker’s history, we’re left to wonder whether drugs were administered before or after the accident. The good news is Richards is recovering from his head injury, and it’s probably just as well he didn’t land on other, more vulnerable body parts. I’ve seen pipe cleaners with more meat on them.
Next we learn that Saddam Hussein managed to write a novel before falling from power in Iraq. Hours before the U.S. invasion, the surly dictator put a few finishing touches on his latest work of fiction, which is set for publishing soon in Japan. My hunch is that his new tale isn’t a steamy romance. Reports indicate that Saddam’s most recent book is “out of touch with reality.” Gee, do you think?
Then we realize that the much-awaited Hollywood blockbuster, “The DaVinci Code,” has raised the ire of People with Albinism due to a sinister monk who is, you guessed it, an Albino. Apparently, several recent movies have perplexingly elected to make Albinos the resident bad guys, going so far as portraying them with pink eyes like rabbits – an absolute fallacy. This latest celluloid attack on Albinos has made these folks pretty mad – they’re not taking it anymore, and we don’t blame them.
But now we’ve learned that the National Security Agency has been collecting call records of millions of Americans from some of the nation’s largest phone companies. And although the agency promises it’s neither recorded nor listened to the calls, somehow it just feels kind of creepy. I know, I know, this is supposed to help catch terrorists, but I’m afraid there’s something sinister at work here.
Don’t you wonder if all those calls you made to order pizza with “the works” have now fallen into unfriendly hands? I envision Weight Watchers leaders and Jenny Craig counselors all over the country perusing consumer records in search of a client’s fall from grace. Across America, the diet-challenged are cowering from their ringing telephones, dreading to pick up and find the Diet Police on the other end of the line.
“Hmmmm… I see you’ve ordered two large anchovy and three pepperoni pizzas with cheese crust this month, Helen. And what about this Szechuan Bang Bang Chicken with extra egg rolls on Friday? Plus I see waaaaaaayy too many calls to Taco Heaven, now that I think about it. That scale isn’t ever going to tip your way if you keep up this nonsense.”
And what about those urgent phone calls pertaining to distressing fashion emergencies? Haven’t you ever once needed to call a close girlfriend about unfortunate wardrobe malfunctions? The really embarrassing kind, forcing you to whisper into your cell phone:
“Oh, my gosh, can you pleeeeezzee meet me in the ladies room at Denny’s with some backup undies? I knew that lingerie sale was too good to be true because – dang it, Frances – I just snapped my new thong.”
Yes, these are the conversations we know NSA is just waiting to pounce upon. I can hear now the rowdy guffaws of the agents lolling around at governmental offices as they pick up on some of the juicier tidbits coming through the wires:
“I know, Norma, but what was she supposed to do? Fred was wearing her best nightie! How could she ever set foot inside the Ladies Club and face the girls again? I think she just needs to pack up and go visit her sister in Lodi for awhile.”
Consequently, I’m afraid we’re going to have to be on our best behavior while conversing on the telephone from now on. So if you’re planning to call me in the near future, remember to address me as “Paris Hilton.”
Gale Hammond is a 23-year Morgan Hill resident. Reach her at Ga*********@*ol.com.
