Thursday, March 16, 2006

The Senator Leonard K. Bullfinch Newsletter #12

Ethnic Profiling

My Fellow Americans:

Recently the use of ethnic profiling by law enforcement and other government agencies has come under fire in the United States. But is it wrong? We are often given the example of sending Japanese-Americans to internment camps during the Second World War, as if that were a bad thing.

We should take notice if a car load of young black men are driving around in the white side of town at night. After all, the domestic help usually goes home by five. What possible business could they have on the white side of town? Truly, how many white folk really have black friends? And if they do, how many of them would really want their black “friends” to come over to their homes where their neighbors could see them? At night? And similarly, what would a white person be doing over on the black side of town at any time of the day, other than buying drugs? And that’s illegal, too.

But especially, we should take notice of those people whose descendants – maybe even their relatives back home – openly hate the United States.

Unfortunately, common sense seems to have taken a vacation. Why should airport security search your grandmother’s shoes while letting a young, Arabic-looking man walk on through unnoticed? Are we so afraid of offending the sensibilities of minorities that we ignore the safety of the majority?

Obviously, those of Arabic descent who are dressed in their traditional costumes stand out, and rightly so. But what about those people who are only part Arabic? Someone who may not look Arabic? Should we trust somebody any less if he is half Arabic? A fourth? An eighth? What percent does it take to push the trigger on a bomb?

Everyone should know their ethnic identity. I know mine, and I’m proud to say that I am half English, one quarter Dutch, and one quarter Irish, give or take. If, however, someone claims not to know their ethnic identity, then it is more than likely that they’re just not wanting to admit that they come from a less than desirable country, like Iraq, Dubai, or France.

Therefore, I propose that we set up an Office of Ethnic Identity, to verify everyone’s country or countries of origin. And further, I propose that everybody be required to carry a National Identification Card that contains that information. This card would be invaluable to the various law enforcement agencies. Along with ethnic identity, it would contain such information as name, social security number, and permanent address, as well as religion, voting affiliation, and sexual preference. Because these are things we need to know.

These cards would be indispensable should our country ever need to set up internment camps again. And it’s truly no different than having our young men register for the draft. It doesn’t mean we’re actually going to do it. It can be argued that we don’t need to know if someone’s relatives are from, say, Canada. However, it may only be a matter of time before we’re at war with Canada. What then?

This would make America a safer place for everybody, and it would speed up the lines at the airports, too. We could even have special flights just for those of lesser bloodlines. After all, who would care if a terrorist blew up an airplane full of terrorists?

These cards need not be a permanent thing. Eventually we will develop the technology to imprint this information on permanent computer chips that can be injected into the bloodstream and read with satellite scanners.

We can understand why innocent people would not want to be falsely accused; however, these people need to understand what is at stake. And besides, if you are truly innocent, then you should have nothing to worry about.

Thank you, and God Bless America!

The Honorable Senator Leonard K. Bullfinch

Early Retirement

I usually don't comment on current events...much, but this was just too good to pass up. From the New York Times comes the story of a 51 year old proof-reader, George Turklebaum. George had worked at the same publishing company for 30 years, where he shared an open office space with 23 other workers. So one day, while proofreading a medical textbook, he dropped dead at his desk. That was on Monday. Hey, shit happens. Here's where the weirdness checks in. No one noticed he'd died until Saturday when an office cleaner just happened to ask if he were OK. Apparently he wasn't.

OK. He was a hard worker. He always came in early and left late. He kept to himself. But five days! FIVE DAYS! You'd think someone would've noticed before then. Something. As the NY Times says: "The moral of the story: Don't work too hard. Nobody notices anyway."

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

Still Waiting

Last week I email Rep. David Sater, thanking him for trying to make Christianity the official state religion. He must really be a busy man, since he hasn't replied yet. This is a wonderful thing that he's trying to do. After all, how else will we know which religion is truly right?

Everybody needs to email Mr. Sater and thank him.


Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Paint Machine

Miles mixed paint.
You know,
he ran one of those machines
that put little squirts of colour
in a can of white paint,
and then after he shook it up
it'd come out being this colour
that had nothing to do
with any of the colours that it was before.

Not that it's magic or anything.
I mean, they have this little book
that tells you just exactly how many squirts to squirt
when the customer finally makes up her mind.

Miles also waited on customers.
He didn't run a cash register or anything like that;
he just marked the price on top of the can
and then somebody up front rang it up.

Not like it really would've mattered anyway
if they would've let him run the cash register.
Miles would've hated his job just the same.

You see,
Miles hated his job
because it was something that any idiot could do.
There was no intellectual challenge.
And the more Miles thought about it,
the more he became convinced
that a machine could do his job
just as well as he could.

So that's just what Miles did.
He made himself a robot.

Oh, don't get me wrong;
it was a really lame robot.
He started with an old, self-propelled lawnmower
and worked up for there.
The body was a worn-out shop vac,
and the only arm it had was the hose.
The head was this pathetic bowling ball
that he bought at a garage sell,
and on top of that bowling ball
he had duct-taped an old video camera
and then painted this really stupid-looking face.
He tried the best he could to make it look human
by sticking clothes on it.
You know, like his blue work smock
with his name badge stuck on it.
But it still looked like a pile of junk
that got caught in the clothesline.

But it worked.
It really worked.

He'd wind it up or whatever,
and it would go into work
and put in eight hours a day,
overtime if it had to.

And the people down at the store bought it.
Or they just didn't care.
None of the customers seemed to mind, either.
Why should they?
I mean, as long as their paint came out the right colour?
And once every other week
they'd send a pay check home with the robot.

Nothing went haywire with the robot.
It didn't go berserk and kill all the customers
or get a conscience and want Miles to share the money,
or anything like that.

The paint store never wised up
and made robots of their own
so that they could stop paying Miles to stay home
while his robot did all the work.

Miles never got depressed
because he'd replaced himself with a machine.

In fact, pretty much of nothing happened at all.
Miles just stayed at home and watched TV all day,
which seems kind of boring,
but who am I to judge?

Monday, March 13, 2006

Quick Thought

If the average person is an idiot, who would want common sense?