Over the weekend, following new threats of terror against the United States, our government engaged in “intelligence fusion efforts between the FBI and the CIA,” according to national security adviser Condoleezza Rice. Roughly translated, that means for the first time ever, the FBI and the CIA shared information. What?? Sometimes I feel a great sense of pride in this country. Others, I am simply befuddled by the ridiculous level of bureaucracy that clearly exists at every level of government. Two intelligence agencies — supposedly under the same higher-level leadership — have never collaborated in efforts to learn about terrorism and potential threats? Who knows what else they’ve never compared notes about? Probably lots.
Still, the warnings this time are both more specific and more vague. Warning notices are being posted at apartment complexes around the country, including here in the Bay Area. Yet the government supposedly does not know when the next act of terror may strike. It “could happen tomorrow, it could happen next week, it could happen next year,” said Vice President Dick Cheney. Gee, thanks. I could’ve told you that. Even if the government does has specifics, is it really in anyone’s best interest to detail exactly what, when, and where the next act will occur? Would it really do anything but create mass hysteria similar to that we’ve witnessed in movies such as Armageddon and Deep Impact? Probably not. It may be in everyone’s best interest not to know. Whether it’s to occur by terrorism or not, I certainly don’t want to know when I’m going to die. I enjoy the mystery. I enjoy living life without looking to a dark fate.
Last night was the series finale of The X-Files. Following its 9-year run on FOX, it’s hard to believe the show is finally no more. I’ll miss that Sunday-night ritual. At least there are always re-runs.
Yesterday I spoke with my sales guy, Andrew, at Bianco Subaru in Corte Madera. He actually had the audacity to insinuate that it was my fault that my titanium shift knob has come loose in my car for the second time — that maybe it was the way I drive. Alas, what more should one expect from a kid salesman whose daddy owns the place? I later called him back to inform him that that was a very unprofessional thing to say and that it demonstrated incredibly poor customer service. He apologized, which was what I was after.
