Mickey Z
Cool Observer
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
No Child Left Behind...at the Central Intelligence Agency
We’ll have fun, fun, fun...till your Daddy takes our freedoms away
The other day—being a good American—I was surfing through the CIA’s Homepage for Kids (http://urlsnip.com/258042). Specifically: a section called “Who We Are & What We Do.”
It reads, in part:
When people think of the CIA, they think of people lurking around in trenchcoats, sending messages in code, and using cool tools to do their job. Well, to some extent that’s true, but it’s not the whole story. The Central Intelligence Agency’s job is to help the President, the National Security Council, and all other government officials who make and carry out US national security policy. We do this in two ways:
1. We give accurate and timely intelligence (or information) on foreign threats to our security.
2. We conduct counterintelligence or other special activities relating to foreign intelligence and national security when the President asks us to.
Please don’t miss the drug quiz: http://tinyurl.com/8na8q
Also, there’s a game for the kids called “Break the Code” (http://urlsnip.com/274445). This reminded me of the little speech Matt Damon gave in Good Will Hunting...when asked:
"Why not work for the NSA?"
Why shouldn’t I work for the NSA? That’s a tough one. But I’ll take a shot. Say I’m working at the NSA, and somebody puts a code on my desk, something no one else can break. Maybe I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I’m real happy with myself, ‘cuz I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East, and once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels are hiding. Fifteen hundred people that I never met, never had no problem with, get killed. Now the politicians are saying, “Oh, send in the Marines to secure the area”, ‘cuz they don’t give a shit. It won’t be their kid over there, getting shot. Just like it wasn’t them when their number got called, ‘cuz they were pulling a tour in the National Guard. It’ll be some kid from Southie over there taking shrapnel in the ass. He comes back to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, ‘cuz he’ll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile he realizes the only reason he was over there in the first place was so that we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And of course the oil companies used the little skirmish over there to scare up domestic oil prices. A cute little ancillary benefit for them but it ain’t helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. They’re taking their sweet time bringing the oil back, of course, maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and fuckin’ play slalom with the icebergs, it ain’t too long till he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic. So now my buddy’s out of work. He can’t afford to drive, so he’s walking to the fuckin’ job interviews, which sucks because the shrapnel in his ass is giving him chronic hemorrhoids. And meanwhile he’s starving ‘cuz every time he tries to get a bite to eat the only blue plate special they’re serving is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State. So what did I think? I’m holding out for something better. I figure: fuck it, while I’m at it why not just shoot my buddy, take his job, give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe, and join the National Guard? I could be elected President.
How do ya like them apples?
Copyright © 2005-2007 Mickey Z.
