Call Monitoring Travesty

By:  Cheryl Tully Stoll

From 2006 Archives

 

Well, well, well. George W. Bush and friends have been monitoring my phone calls.  I certainly hope I’ve done my job as a good American and provided them with sufficient entertainment.

 

Boy, am I glad that I don’t cheat on my husband—or vice versa.

 

I am concerned however that if they run their phone surveillance as well as they run
FEMA, the CIA and the rest of government that they’ve probably missed something juicy.  So just in case, I’m going to copy all our phone records from our home phones and cell phones for the last six years and send them to The Whitehouse so they can double check and make sure that they have COMPLETELY violated our privacy and rights as citizens instead of just partially violating those rights. 

 

There are certain footnotes that I will have to include however.  I no longer speak with the person at area code 419, she couldn’t deliver Ohio for the Democrats, so what good is she?

 

If my employer is reading this, the phone call I made to the human resources department of that other company was just a wrong number.  (Oooops)

 

And in case my fellow Democrats are concerned, my friend in area code 407 has switched from an R to a D so she’s ok.

 

And members of the Peeping Tom Eves Dropping Taskforce, just in case you’re wondering, the calls I made to California and New Jersey the weekend after 911 were to see how my Persian and Lebanese friends were doing with all the anti-Arab backlash after the attacks.  Despite the stereotypes, both are American Citizens and neither are terrorists.

 

And yes, I’m sure you will notice that I screen some of my in-laws calls.  When you’re done examining everyone’s records you will see that I am not the only person in America who does this.

 

The 900 number was a mistake—all three times.  (Oooops again)

 

And yes, my husband and I do tend to enjoy take out food on occasion—so shoot us.  Mr. Cheney I don’t mean that literally of course.

 

And no, it’s not a mistake.  I have talked on the phone during almost every State of the Union Address the President has given.  If they check everyone else’s phone bills, they will probably find that is the heaviest talk time in America since nothing is on television during that time.  And when looking closely they will notice that the increased percentage of those talking on the phone during the State of the Union should inversely correlate directly to the President’s declining poll numbers.

 

If the administration truly wanted to help the American people, they would take all this newfound information and use it to enforce the federal Do Not Call list.

 

There is one benefit to this invasion of our privacy however; a complete scouring of all of our phone records will prove once and for all that we DON’T watch American Idol.

 

And as far as the comments that I have been known to make on the phone about this administration being completely inept, basically corrupt and morally bankrupt—I stand by them all.  This latest revelation just proves how right I was.

 

Copyright Ó 2006, 2008 by Cheryl Tully Stoll

It’s Not Whining, It’s Cries For Help

By:  Cheryl Tully Stoll

 

 

Former Texas Senator Phil Gramm finally crossed all lines of humanity and reality when he accused people suffering from our nation’s economic troubles of “whining” about their plight.  While claiming that the nation’s economic problems are not reality but are just in our minds, John McCain’s previously reported choice for Secretary of the Treasury, a man McCain has said, “knows more about economics” than anyone else in the country, showed utter ignorance and insensitivity with the statement he made to the Washington Times.

 

Mr. Gramm, we’re not economic hypochondriacs when we tell you that it costs $80.00 to fill the same gas tank that $37.00 used to fill.

 

The 438,000 Americans who lost their jobs in the first six months of this year are not imagining their unemployment, they’re enduring it.

 

The mother feeling guilty because she can not afford shoes to replace the ones her two year-old has out grown and is watching his gait change as a result isn’t imagining the blisters on her son’s feet.

 

The eight year-old who doesn’t get a school lunch or breakfast in the summer who says she’s hungry because there is little food in her home because her parents need their cash to fuel their car to get back-and-forth from their three jobs, isn’t whining, she’s crying out for help.

 

When Meals on Wheels Directors from all over the country articulate the multiple financial problems cause by the economy that are threatening the program that provide critical life-services to elderly shut-ins, that’s not whining Mr.Gramm,  it’s cries for help.

 

When mothers tell you they find themselves forced to buy more unhealthy processed foods for their developing toddlers because fresh fruit and vegetables are too expensive, they’re not whining, they’re crying out for help.

 

And their friends and neighbors are not whining when they tell you they have had to cut their children’s milk intake in half because the $5.00 a gallon price is more than they can afford. Those are anguished cries for help.

 

The families who have never missed a rent payment and are being evicted and tossed out on to the street without refund of their last month’s rent or security deposit because their landlord was foreclosed on,  and are now unable to secure other housing without those deposits are not whining, they’re crying out for help.

 

When senior citizens report that they are being forced to choose between filling their prescriptions, gas tanks or grocery baskets, they’re not whining, they’re crying out for help.

 

Mr. Gramm are your ears so callused from years of privilege in the US Senate with a generous pension and the best health plan in the world that you can’t hear these cries?  When sincere and humbling pleas for help are interpreted as whining there can only be two reasons and both are medical; one a hearing problem the other would be not having a heart.  Which is your problem Mr. Gramm?  I promise if you tell me, I won’t accuse you of whining.

 

Copyright Ó 2008 by Cheryl Tully Stoll