I have met the BB and the BB is me.

BB = Big Brother

While my brain was still idling, waiting for the caffeine to kick in, I followed a link from a punny NYTimes Arts & Leisure 'Directions' piece called Go Retell It on the Mountain - no link?

[computer on. meatspace/dead-tree/newsprint NYT on the coffee table. plastic bag it came in is down the street in a city trash can with a fresh poo in it. my dog (who hates me) in her regular spot]

I find BLDG BLOG which seems like a nice place to loiter while I wait for my synapses to start firing. This post is a nice addition to the whole on-going domestic spying issue/crisis/revelation.

Actually, this type of surveillance is not very intrusive if you consider that the eyes and ears of the village have always been there watching you -- The job once performed by the likes of Rita "I saw that you little punk!!" DelVecchio is now the responsibility of, well, Rita. Except now, instead of sweeping up the porch calling after you and your egg-throwing friends, she's on the couch with the remote reaching for the neighborhood watch on speed dial. Then she does a screen capture off her TV and adds your picture to SeeThisSeeThisMineNow.Blogspot.com or some such.