If It Weren't For Citizens Like Me, I Swear to God....

The hubris of our government is always a shocking thing to behold. It's almost as if they think they can get away with anything at all. But they just don't realize that some of us are not totally asleep and that we see more than they think we do. This time they really screwed up. Obviously everyone knows that the feds have been putting secret messages on our paper currency to keep track of our whereabouts and get us to buy more stuff and keep the pointless cycle of spending going and going and going. I mean, what do you think all those seemingly meaningless strings of digits are? You think those are an accident? They have no purpose other than to 1) isolate your geographical location down to the square inch and 2) embed themselves in your brain in order to cue the neurons that cause you to run out and buy whatever the government wants you to buy that week. And all the designs in the artwork are meant to put other kinds of messages into our brains---stuff to keep us docile and tranquil while the government goes about its nasty business of dominating the world. But yesterday, I paid for a Twix bar with a five, and one of the singles I got back blew their cover completely. It was such a bad slip on their part, I almost thought I was being set up. Right there on the front of the one dollar bill, in big red letters, were the words HAPPY FOURTH BIRTHDAY, GORDY! Not even typewritten, but in longhand. Whoa! Now when the CIA (or those working behind the CIA) screw up that bad, you know things are in disarray. Obviously what happened was that someone in the labs they have underground at Langley was supposed to shrink that message to submicroscopic size before it was printed on the bill, and that someone forgot to hit the switch---so that I was the recipient of a subliminal message gone awry. I'm sure that HAPPY FOURTH BIRTHDAY, GORDY!, when cross-referenced with the digits on the other dollar bills I got back as change, was intended to put me right to sleep while the government invades Antarctica or quadruples the tax rate---or maybe it was even meant to freeze the rotation of my brain and turn me into a zombified assassin whose only purpose is to kill anyone who objects to anything the president says. (I think this is what happened to Frank Feazy from tenth grade.) But I caught it, and I don't have to tell you I'm going straight to the Falls Church Weekly Beacon for some serious front-page lid-blowing. If I should disappear between now and the time I get to their office over on Pear Street, launch an investigation! But not an official one---Jesus, that's just giving Big Brother the means to silence the facts forever! No, I want the investigation to be done by the bloggers, who are the only ones who dare to speak the truth. They won't let 'research' or 'objectivity' or 'having some personal experience with the issues at hand' get in the way of finding out exactly which dumpster behind a Linens 'N' Things in Landover my body has been tossed into, and which state comptroller gave the order for my disposal between afternoon rounds of golf with his other cyborg legislators! (If the bloggers aren't interested in my story, get the psychics. And if they won't take it, call Tony Kornheiser.)