This joke again: The Pope, John Wayne, and Hitler are getting on a bus. As the Pope
attempts to pass the driver, neither showing a senior's pass, nor dropping
coinage for the single fare, the driver holds him up with the tenor of a clearing of his throat and a, "Fare, please."
The Pope's graceful smile betrays a hint of condescension. "I am the infallible Holy Pontiff, respected representative of well-over a billion Catholics around the globe," comes his reply. "Anyway," he adds, indicating poverty with a gesture of his hands, "I don't have pockets." He blesses the driver with a sign of the cross and moves to the back of the bus, taking a seat.
He is followed by John Wayne, who likewise attempts to pass ignoring the driver who, as with the Pope, stalls the actor's obliviousness by asking him to show a ticket or pay the fare.
John Wayne contemplates the confrontation with a shift from one foot to the other and then squares himself with the driver and boasts, "I am an American icon, representative of the greatest generation, and a symbol of the heroic taming of the savage frontier. I don't ask you to compensate me for my service and I sure as hell ain't gonna pay for a ride on a pinko city bus." He saunters to the back of the bus and takes a place just near enough the Pope to be able to sit with his legs spread wide apart.
Next comes Hitler.
The rhetorical moral of this tale is, if you can't stop the Pope or John Wayne, how're you gonna stop Hitler?
The Pope's graceful smile betrays a hint of condescension. "I am the infallible Holy Pontiff, respected representative of well-over a billion Catholics around the globe," comes his reply. "Anyway," he adds, indicating poverty with a gesture of his hands, "I don't have pockets." He blesses the driver with a sign of the cross and moves to the back of the bus, taking a seat.
He is followed by John Wayne, who likewise attempts to pass ignoring the driver who, as with the Pope, stalls the actor's obliviousness by asking him to show a ticket or pay the fare.
John Wayne contemplates the confrontation with a shift from one foot to the other and then squares himself with the driver and boasts, "I am an American icon, representative of the greatest generation, and a symbol of the heroic taming of the savage frontier. I don't ask you to compensate me for my service and I sure as hell ain't gonna pay for a ride on a pinko city bus." He saunters to the back of the bus and takes a place just near enough the Pope to be able to sit with his legs spread wide apart.
Next comes Hitler.
[alternative addendum::]
The driver takes one look at the Führer and, annoyed, waves him past with a, "Oh, Jesus. Just go ahead!"The rhetorical moral of this tale is, if you can't stop the Pope or John Wayne, how're you gonna stop Hitler?
The present point: imagine surveillance is the Pope. Surveillance cameras and Flock are, respectively, John Wayne and Hitler. If you prefer, replace surveillance with another mode of gathering data on people and, eventually, outsourcing the gathering to be shared with... whomever.
This is just the latest iteration I'm prompted to mention. Previously, on Warning About What This Means For Tomorrow When Today Should've Be Enough Yesterday:
The Pope = law & order
The Pope = law & order
John Wayne = lack of accountability for same
Hitler = result of lack of accountability
The Pope = prison
John Wayne = privatizing prisons
Hitler = school to prison pipeline
The Pope = extraordinary rendition
John Wayne = kill list Tuesdays
Hitler = just bombing whatever with goal post shifting goals
The Pope = district-based school funding
John Wayne = charter schools
Hitler = corporate prison pipeline
The Pope = state secrets
John Wayne = prosecuting whistleblowers
Hitler = in-group patriotism über alles
The Pope = health insurance
John Wayne = insurance mandate
Hitler = coverage rug pull
John Wayne = bug
Hitler = bug feature
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And in sports: The Reds get picked to perform an operation on a wrenched ankle. Let's go to the video:
