I Am a Fisher of Men

Dear Dyuree:

I gotta love this country. They're getting close, but they still can't let themselves believe what's going on.

See, it's simple. We can't have a War on Terror if there isn't any terror -- and we can only get away with the "We're fighting them over there to keep from fighting them here" crap for so long.

So we go fishing for some terror. We find something that might do, and then we make sure we turn it into something we can act on.

Then... bingo! Once again, we hit the jackpot. And I am The Man.

It works. Our corporate friends are coming along for the ride, and we just have to give them a little help to keep it up. It feeds the machine: they make sure the right people can't get cellphones or order pizza, and it will make them mad enough to say the magic words that get them a three by three SRO in Gitmo.

Twisting the facts? Light on facts? Who needs facts when people are scared shitless?

I. Am. The. Man. No matter what my mama says.