If government eavesdropping is as rampant as reported, how come the spies never get me out of trouble?
If people are taking the time to monitor our private phone calls, they could at least slip us notes.
The way I figure it, American intelligence should cover me when my intelligence slips a tad. We're all on the same side here, aren't we?
It would be sort of like an answering machine when you would have been better off letting the machine take the call.
My wife called home the other day to tell me something very important very quickly because she was stuck doing something else also very important. I think that's what it was.
Unfortunately, she babbled her very important thing at the very same time a very important sequence was occurring between Tom and Jerry.
When Jerry the mouse narrowly escaped the trap Tom the cat set, and I could breathe again, I clicked off the TV and said into the phone, "What was that again?"
But Terry had hung up.
This is where government eavesdropping would come in handy.
I couldn't call my wife back to ask her what she'd just told me. She'd think I hadn't been paying attention again, something else that seems very important to her.
It would have been far less dangerous to pick up the phone and say, "Hey, Fred, what was that my wife just asked me to do?" Fred would play back the tape, and I'd tell him about Tom and Jerry's latest shenanigans.
Instead, I had to guess.
When Terry came home, I said, "Hi, Honey, I set out the pot roast like you asked."
"We don't have pot roast. And what's this mess melting all over the countertop?"
"I thought it was pot roast."
She'd do that sigh thing of hers. "I know you meant well, Sweetie. As long as you ran that envelope to the post office like I asked, I don't care. I'd have lost the big contract if that package didn't get into the mail today."
The only reason she hadn't noticed the package still on the counter was because I plopped what I thought was the roast-but-wasn't on top of it.
This reminds of a joke my buddy Donn told me: "If Adam had gotten a divorce, he would have been the world's first Eve's-dropper."
Not sure why I just thought of a divorce joke.
Anyway, by the time I shooed Terry into the room so I could scoop up the melted thing that wasn't a roast and the envelope beneath it and run to the freezer, I discovered the address smeared beyond recognition. In fact, the soggy envelope itself was smeared practically beyond recognition. I didn't want to think about the contents.
Again, a professional eavesdropper would have come in handy. I could pick up the phone and talk to my spy.
"Say, Fred, that package Terry told me to mail, where was it supposed to go?"
Fred would play back the tape of Terry's conversation with the client, give me the address, and likely tell me what was in the envelope, as I didn't think anyone could tell now.
"Listen, Fred, can you get a message to the spy monitoring the client's phone? Let the client know the contract is here, and it's a good one I guess so, anyway and to send the check. Thanks, Fred. You're a pal. Say, I'm watching the big game tomorrow night. You want me to leave the phone off the hook so you can listen in?"
If you're going to eavesdrop, use the power for good. Make sure I know what my wife said. And let me know if we ever get pot roast.
---- If you're a government spy, you already know where to reach Cole. For the rest of you, write him at firstname.lastname@example.org or find him on the Burton W. Cole page on Facebook.