This week PAJ sat down with an agent of
the NSA at a diner on a vacant corner of Lambton county. PAJ can't
say which diner, because we don't want to ruin another great
breakfast place by making it impossible to get a table. Going by the
pseudonym Caligula Goonsquad, the agent wasn't another whistleblower,
but rather was looking to enlist the help of a public he already knew
too much about. “We know what most of you are after, what most of
you want, it's to just go about your day, provide for your kids, your
family, a roof and three squares, and deal with the least amount of
bullshit possible. We get that, and we want to help.” The shadowy
man in the booth who asked that we call him Caligula Goonsquad then
outlined what the NSA would do to help the average citizen. “We'll
interfere as little as possible, and we'll let you go about your day,
as long as part of your day involves spying on the elderly for us.”
Now that the NSA has tabs on all
internet users, the non-internet users have piqued their interest.
“We don't know what the 'people without computers' demographic is
up to. It makes us nervous, not knowing what they're up to.” The
NSA agent confided that the agency is utterly convinced that our
Grandparents are harbouring secrets. “They're up to something. They
have to be. We know Mennonites are spending all their time raising
barns, satellite imagery shows a new one every week, but the elderly
are indoors, a lot, and they're doing something in there. We don't
know what.” Caligula Goonsquad could not stop throwing glances at
the diner's door. “Look, the NSA wants you to get into your
Grandparents house, and just hang out. Then send an e-mail, tell your
relatives about what Grandma's up to, more importantly, what kind of
ideas your Grandma is talking about. We'll intercept your e-mails for
the information about your Grandma, and we'll use the information to
keep you safe, and you can feel good about being a good citizen.
That's the trade.”
“What we need to know, is how they
are communicating.” Caligula Goonsquad then passed a picture of a
needlepoint of morning glory vines in front of a traditional red
brick wall across the table. “Look at this. Is this code? Is this
Berlin? If you turn the picture sideways and squint the ivy starts to
look like an anarchy symbol. That's not insignificant.” He leaned
back. “Just what the fuck is Muriel getting up to?” Caligula,
referring to James Betty Grandmother of 27 years Muriel Betty, was
evasive when asked if the NSA is responsible for dangling a car-sized
microphone antenna array over Muriel's house. The same type of
antenna array has been implicated in the deaths of at least four
senior citizens. It is suspected that the antenna arrays are creating
enough energy to cook a a person in their home. The NSA has explained
on several occasions that that the elderly being cooked in their
houses is none of our damn business.
Asked if he could please get the
potentially deadly antenna array off my Grandmother's roof, Caligula
didn't paint a favourable situation. “Alright, first, it's not our
antenna, so technically, I don't even know what you're talking about.
Second, it might go away if you give us the information we want, and
third, if you try and destroy the antenna you will be destroying US
Government property, and you will go to jail for treason because you
helped terrorism.”
Distressed over what the NSA could
possibly be seeing in Muriel's needlepoint, PAJ's resident
cryptography expert Ovaltine Goose-Shredder had a look at it. “If
you use binary to decode it, it's complete gibberish. I see why they
were looking for patterns in the ivy. They've got nothing, and when
they want something, they make it up. Human brains are designed to
look for patterns. We're so good at it we can make them out of anything.” Goose-Shredder concluded by showing his forearms. “Hey
America, nothing in my hands and nothing up my sleeves, okay?”
Muriel was thankfully alive as of late
Thursday, and was completely nonchalant about the microphone antenna
array that was dangling over her house. “That's just one of the
government's radar dishes, we used to see them everywhere back during
the war. It's nothing to worry about, dearie.” Ovaltine
Goose-Shredder, who scaled Muriel's roof to analyze the antenna
array, confirmed that Muriel probably has nothing to worry about.
“These things have a lot of electricity running through them,
apparently it takes a lot of juice to hear through a roof.” He
concluded that in the event of a power surge, the antenna array could
potentially cook a senior citizen, “but that seems rare, like
lightning strike rare, so odds are it won't happen.”
Muriel concluded the interview by
wondering if the dish was part of a government assisted cable for the
elderly initiative. “Will I get HGTV again?” she asked, “They
have such nice living rooms on that channel.” PAJ promises, as soon
as the blog gets a book deal, Grandma gets cable.
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