Momma told me 'when life hands you lemons, Lucius, make lemonade.' It turns out she was talking to the family dog but her one good eye was fixed on me so I took her words to heart and have been drinking lemonade, with pulp, peel and seeds ever since. Or not.
It is very likely as near as I can determine from the various press accounts with which we have all been bombarded in recent weeks (Post Ed Snowden) that the National Security Agency, NSA, had the means, if not the actual physical records, to track every single one of us via the phone and computer to include our text messages and the times that our evil twin Skippy, or his evil twin, Raoul, wandered into some pretty frisky chat rooms for discussions involving saran wrap and petroleum jelly.
And now, but only now, are the men and women whom we've chosen to represent us at the Seat of Government (seat being another word for ass in my neighborhood) in Washington, the District of Columbia, becoming concerned.
I'm wondering if it's because certain Senators worry that the five hours their mouse sat on the Victoria Secret's website could become public knowledge. Yeah, turns out there's something about Mary and Bob and Elizabeth and John. Unless you're wearing gloves, I'd just wave to them.
And the saddest part of all may be that after all this effort and breach of personal privacy and just plain barefooted trampling on our Constitution, the harvest of information was akin to that after a boll weevil infestation. Laboring greatly and bringing forth a mouse.
The only upside seems to be if your computer crashed or your smartphone had a hiccup and you lost your data, you probably didn't. The NSA in all likelihood has it. Of course, having it and finding it are two different concepts. In much the same way as at one time Republicans and Democrats were different.
Perfection in every detail, fabricated from the curl of the hair to the tip of the nail. Because our units never fail. We know you'll be happy. Just don't ask how we'll know.