August 24, 2009 archive

I would like to express my thanks for the extreme professionalism, courtesy and OPSEC displayed toward me this evening by two members of the Department of Hopeless Insecurity.

Let’s start with what first called my attention to the fact that I was being tailed today. I understand completely that when false taxicabs are deployed to follow a scary scary New York based suburban housewife around that a person completely unfamiliar with the area will think that the most practical color to paint them is NYC screaming yellow, but someone needs to explain to these poor sods that suburban Long Island taxi companies don’t usually do this. The NYC yellow cab is an entity entirely unto itself, and generally confines itself to the city proper. Seeing them an hour outside of city boundaries is extremely unusual.

I don’t think I really need to apologize for the fact that the one who tailed me this afternoon had to sit in a parking lot for several hours while I wandered merrily about supplanting our meager income with bottles n’ cans, because when I returned from the first foray he was stuffing his face. Our tax dollars at work. I am so proud, and so will you be too when I inform you how his successors behaved.

You see, I had to fare forth yet again this balmy evening to pick up my husband and stepdaughter from the train station. They’d had a long day travelling and I figured I would save them a few steps. I apparently did not save our doughty and vigilant Protectors of the Homeland, Knights of the 21st Century any steps at all. They were right there with me, parked right next to my car in the same screaming NYC yellow “this SO does not belong here” taxi.

I wandered around the train station and sure enough, found a few more bottles n’ cans. Then I returned to my vehicle. It was about 8:30pm, and there was no one else near the two cars – mine, and the taxi.

Ordinarily I would have simply found it odd that a NYC yellow cab with the incongruous company name of “Island Taxi” was making a point of travelling in the same circles I did, except that as I approached my vehicle, the stalwart defenders of… well, whatever the fuck you want to call this travesty of a country now that it’s no longer quite a democracy… looked at me and said rather loudly, “LIGHT ‘EM UP.”

This military euphemism for announcing that a target has been spotted and needs to be filled with lead, incendiaries, and other assorted things that go “boom” was not lost on me, and it was clear that since I was the only other person around, that they meant no one other than me.

Their sentiment is 8 years and 20 days too late, but the assholes that blew up my office building on 9/11 can ALSO kiss my sweet Brooklyn ass.

I mean, don’t you think it’s really special and heartwarming to know that I lived through that awful day just to be threatened with death in my own town by hypocritical, power-tripping pieces of shit who pretend that they have EVER “kept America safe”?

I snorted something about “Hopeless Insecurity” – it was clear that this was who they were now – then held my tongue, and my temper, as I have gotten entirely too good at doing over the years. The way they reacted to what I said, well, let’s just hope you don’t send these two cluetards to infiltrate a poker game any time soon. Never mind their morals, which also suck. Their mad seekrit agent man skillzors also need work. If this is the best you’ve got anymore, I truly fear for America.

The train arrived, and I hugged my stepdaughter in front of these pieces of shit – YOUR pieces of shit, President Obama – to show them what a scary, scary suburban housewife I am, and how right they were to waste the nation’s tax dollars following me to the train station where I was doing scary, scary things like picking up beer cans to help pay my rent while I waited for my family. How right they were to threaten to “LIGHT ME UP.”

Your creatures need to be schooled, Mr. Obama. They need their asses kicked.

That is not my job. It is yours.

If you make it my job, a lot of people will be very, very sorry. I will not be one of them.

I am, I am indeed, a scary, scary suburban housewife. You have full access to my files. You know exactly how scary I can be. But I am also a woman who remembers when the warriors of this country fought ONLY to protect and defend, and only a fraction of them had been so thoroughly brainwashed as to consider “only following orders” to turn on the citizenry of their own country.

I will take no shit off terrorists, President Obama. Including yours.