Wurderer

Dear NSA,

My cat Fluffy is stuck in a tree again. Mummy told me to keep Fluffy inside so that she would not climb in trees anymore, but little Timmy left the door open and the dog frightened her so she fled outside to hide in the big tree on the sidewalk. Now I can’t get Fluffy to come out of the tree and I’m afraid mummy is going to be cross with me when she gets home and sees Fluffy in the big tree. Please, dear NSA, help Fluffy get out of the tree and I’ll give you a piece of my toffee.

Fluffy’s Friend

Dear Fluffy’s Friend. Through surveillance of your parents e-mail traffic we have determined your name in actual fact is Dolores Francine Theresa McMasters, daughter to Jim and Helen McMasters. Both are self-employed tax payers and registered to vote. That means you are entitled to our services as a future tax payer. We have obtained the services of one of the members of Task Force 121 whom we have pulled back from an encounter in a mountain range in Afghanistan. Although this puts the lives of a full platoon at risk, it is a sacrifice we happily bring to help a citizen in a tight spot. The Task Force 121 operator was despatched to Blackwater’s Moyock, North Carolina training facility to retrieve a M-107 Barrett high powered sniper rifle. For reasons of national security it was deemed prudent to not have the operator interact directly with the public in a professional capacity. Satellite imagery was used to determine the optimal range for the operator’s intervention. The operator’s observer accurately measured the range to target as 1844 yards with a 7 degree down range inclination. Wind speed was determined to be a 3.55/3.95 [min/max] meter per second left-to-right crosswind. The standard .50 cal round used by the Barrett sniper rifle platform was assessed to be the ideal interface for severing the branch Fluffy was seated on, at the time of the intervention. Although some consternation was considered an inevitable side effect from the sudden impact, it would be the quickest way to complete the operator’s intervention.

At this point in time the debriefing team is retracing the steps that occurred to determine the exact course of events which caused the trajectory of the bullet to stray from its intended path. A contributing factor to this mishap was the fact that the sighting features had been off one tick to the left, overcompensating for the wind factor. The operator has not been able to give a satisfactory explanation for this apparent discrepancy. He is currently receiving further training to prevent this from happening in another theatre of operation. As it happened, the shot should still have been good, had it not been for the fact that Fluffy decided, at the precise time that the weapon fired, to change her location on the branch. She reached her final destination at the exact time her torso intersected the trajectory of the live round. The operator is adamant that, although the damage to Fluffy’s body was catastrophic and the scene, to the inexperienced eye, will have looked gruesome to a degree, the animal cannot have suffered from the impact because it will have not had time to register any sensation before its body exploded away from the impact point. Death will have occurred instantaneously. The projectile, having been involuntarily diverted from its trajectory, stopped inside of an above-ground heating oil tank. The temperature of the projectile at that point in time was stil sufficient to ignite the fuel inside the tank. The department has recognized instance of this type to be typical of the deployment of the weapon in urban settings and accepts a measure of liability for the collateral damage that ensued. Although obviously the public’s awareness of the presence of this highly specialised type of operator has not been officially divulged to the general public, some funds have been allocated to the reparation of damages towards the community while the federal government will be forced to litigate against the owner of the tank for deploying a fuel tank without proper licence.

In the aftermath of the operation, the operator and his team member were safely extracted from the scene by stealth helicopter, Fluffy’s remains have been whisked away and a forensics team has managed to extract the wayward ammunition from being discovered as the instigator fo the fire that laid an important part of the community in flames. Some resources have been allocated to spread a disinformation campaign to obfuscate the level of involvement in this incident by the Federal Government. A substitute cat, generally answering to the description and, according to eye-witness reports, closely resembling the personality traits of the erstwhile Fluffy, has been delivered to your house so that you may continue bonding with this pet on your way to becoming a well-adjusted tax-payer, a socially responsible consumer and a model citizen.

We are here to help.

This blog post is carbon-neutral.

Evy, verpleeg me

Jouw zachte, tee’dre zorgen

Mijn verloren brood

It’s actually good that we only have religions of love and peace. Imagine what they’d do if they were belligerent. 

Son, we live in a world that has malls and those malls need to be populated by people with money. Who’s gonna do it? You? You, George Bush? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for your fallen brothers and curse the civilians; you have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know: that your countryman’s consumption, while tragic, probably saved jobs and that my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves jobs. You don’t want the truth because deep down in places you don’t talk about in fox holes you want me in that mall, you -need- me in that mall. We use words like credit, discounts, savings. We use them as the backbone of a life trying to buy something. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom I provide and then questions the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said “thank you,” and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest that you pick up a shopping bag and start buying. Either way, I don’t give a damn what you think you are entitled to.

[This post is paraphrased from a speech by Jack Nicholson’s character, Col. Nathan R. Jessep, in the movie A Few Good Men (link opens a new page on IMDB), written by Aaron Sorkin. If you have not seen the movie, treat yourself to it. One of Tom Cruise’s better moments and the very embodiment of passion and delight that is Mr. Jack Nicholson.]

If economy is a science, how come there are so many poor people in the world?

There is no such thing as ‘binding contracts‘. There is just understanding between humans and the laws of physics. 

Wednesday, 6 February 2008 

Dear NSA,

My name is [redacted]. I have been a happily married housewife for the past 17 years.  My husband Ted has always been a good provider and a good friend and there has never been a time where we could not tell each other everything. Well, maybe he should have been a little more honest about the time he worked for my father as a carpenter, but he was under a lot of stress because he had his lost his job at the tire plant. 

Lately though he’s been a bit secretive and I feel as if he’s hiding something from me. I can’t point a finger at it, he’s doing everything he usually does, he keeps bringing in an honest pay check and he’s never drunk, quite the opposite of that nogoodnick neighbor of ours. Yet, there is something in his demeanor that has changed. He’s been late from work a couple of times, even though I see the boys in his shift coming home a lot earlier than he does and it seems as if we’re spending more money than we used to and I don’t know where it’s all going. And it’s almost tax season! 

At this point I’m afraid maybe he’s doing something foolish, like getting involved with that floozy that runs the flower shop after Mrs. Delayne sold it to go live with her sister in Abilene. Or maybe he’s talking to that low-life Ernie again, you know, the one who got sent up state a couple of years ago on account of having taken all that money from the ladies in the old folks home? 

Listen to me, I’m all riled up to the point I don’t make any good sense anymore. 

I don’t know what to do, I’m scared.

Please, can you help a desperate housewife?

Desperate in Tulsa  

Thursday, 14 february 2008  

Dear desperate,

As a tax payer you are entitled to government support. That is why we diverted some of our space assets to look into your domestic matter. Regrettably, we were unable to return to our regular surveillance assignment securing grid sector 29-452-40-102 in time to prevent the enemy from capturing some elements of one our Special Forces teams engaged in operation Forsaken Sanctuary. Their sacrifice will not be forgotten.

The movements of your husband have been tracked through one of the nation’s advanced tracking and ranging systems in geo-synchronous orbit around the planet.A surveillance operation focusing on your husband’s vehicle did not bring any untoward practices to light. 

Your husband’s apparent tardiness has been traced to an anomaly in the left rear suspension of his vehicle which has required him to frequent Tony’s paint and body shop for repairs associated with this problem. 

The bulk of your missing house hold budget has been allocated to these maintenance and repair activities although $26.45 appears to have been set aside towards a surprise your husband has been working on for your Valentine’s celebration. This coincides with the encounters your spouse had with Miss Denise Talkenbrenner, the new proprietor of the flower shop, which used to be wholly owned by Mrs. Delayne. 

Our field operatives could not find any conclusive evidence about any untoward relationship between your husband and Miss Talkenbrenner. Sadly, Miss Talkenbrenner walked in on our covert operation. To prevent her from compromising the security of our operatives force had to be applied. Apparently this has left her in a permanent vegetative state.

A trace of your husband’s e-mail traffic indicates that plans for an initial outlay of $48.69 towards your favorite perfume have been abandoned. The difference between the initial budget and the actual present which you will receive no later than 18:45 tonight, was spent on lottery tickets and some bubbled gum.

Your report on the morally reprehensible “Ernie” has been traced to a convicted felon by the name of Ernest Bozlowsky. We were able to establish a criminal history of embezzlement by this individual of a home for the elderly “The Pine Cone Resort for the Elderly and the Infirm“. 

From conversations we intercepted between this individual and your husband it was determined that your husband ran a greater than average risk of being dragged into ventures that might have required your frequenting your local Federal correctional facility for a great many years. We reported this threat to our counterparts of the Central Intelligence Agency for review. The threat was deemed credible and assigned “clear and present danger” status. This culminated in the termination of Ernest Bozlowsky with extreme prejudice.

Your details were forwarded to the Internal Revenue Service for a full audit of your fiscal responsibilities.

We’re here to help.

Zelden kend’ ik meer genoegen

Was ik blijer dan het kleinste kind

Dan als ik over ‘t Vlaemsche land mocht ploegen

Onder ‘t genot ener frischen pint

Of ‘t moest zijn temidden van mijn vrienden

En ‘t schoon vrouwvolk, elk van hen een feest

Wier luid gelach en zacht gevlij ‘t geluk aandienden

Mooier tijden zijn er nooit geweest

Ook nu weer in ‘t Huis aan ‘t water

Kijk ik uit naar spranklend bier

En ga ik huiswaarts met een kater

Ik had toch weer een nacht vertier

En ligt daarna mijn dag aan spaanderen

‘k Geef er niet om, ik was bij Vlaanderen

This post is under construction [between two ears, mental marination applies]

I don’t know what it’s like for other bloggers. What their original mindset is, or even whether they had one. I find myself pushed onto this podium, with a few ideas scratched on a notepad looking at an indifferent audience, wondering how I’m going to make this thing work.

Was it like that for you too?

That ticking noise, that wonderful chatter of keys in heat, the delightful scent of expectation in the air. A new blog. The universe, my oister. You’re invited to come along. There’s bumps in the road ahead but the suspension is sturdy and the mood sunny. Feast your eyes on this, my friends. I’m going for a ride!