I think a lot about a large, dark room filled with monitors and men quietly jacking off to our salacious texts.
To be honest, since the inception of the Patriot Act and the DHS, this particular mental image used to run through my mind from time to time in a much less R-rated form. It once was just a bunch of white dudes in a darkened room eerily lit by the blue tones of the electronic, all-seeing eye of the Panopticon.
I wondered how they could possibly be surveying all of our personal communications. It seemed, according to many pasty dudes in camo suspenders who’d built homemade bunkers in the back 40 of their property in anticipation of the inevitable government takeover (dude, are you even paying attention??) in which they of course somehow successfully avoid incarceration in the FEMA camp, that not just people the government had reason to be suspicious of, but all of us, were being watched at all times – all our little, idiosyncratic messages analyzed for signs of potential sedition.
not if my bunker and my 800 cases of canned beans have anything to say about it!
I was well aware that a lot of people were being needlessly, and in violation of their civil liberties, watched – I’m not gonna name names or anything (cough cough). But I also thought a lot of these conspiracy theorists were going a bit overboard. And I realize that their system of surveillance probably operates in a much more efficient manner related to certain words that ping and cause the owners of whatever email account or phone number to be flagged for closer watching (see how tech-savvy and insightful I am? You’re so gonna wish I was in your bunker with you), but that’s the picture I had in my head.
Probably from reading 1984 too many times as a kid. It’s a pretty good one, especially with that creepy blue glow. And it stayed that way for quite some time – bunch of dudes in desk chairs, eating Chinese takeout from the cartons, getting bored with our mundane inanities. But in the summer of 2014, an event occurred that changed this image in a grotesque and sticky way forever.
you guys, it’s finally here! the fappening is upon us!
When hundreds of photos, many of them nudes, were stolen from celebrity accounts through iCloud, not only did 4chan and Reddit users have their literal best day ever where they could simultaneously slut-shame, ridicule the intelligence and carelessness of, and whack off to famous women all from the comfort of their own mothers’ basements – my idea of the constantly vigilant denizens of the dark room changed permanently.
Not ever having been much for sexting (like, basically I will not because I’m fatally bored by the idea), it hadn’t ever occurred to me that along with all those texts about meeting up for coffee, the NSA is also seeing thousands of pictures of our T&A.
[bctt tweet=”The NSA is also seeing thousands of pictures of our tits and asses.” username=”wearethetempest”]
Suddenly, they weren’t kicking back, feet on the desk, throwing the occasional paper airplane at one another – they were leaning forward, tissue in hand, unblinkingly staring at screens filled with lurid descriptions of who’s going to stick what in where, fervently stroking their man meat.
welcome, my son, to the machine
I had to wonder: Do government surveillance agencies have lotion ration policies for their employees? Does it go into the contract? Is it something you can take up with HR if you’re just not getting enough lotion to keep your pole from chafing when you have too many sexy messages to spy on?
Are there certain styles of sexting that trend better than others with DHS employees? Like, is everyone really jealous of Rod who somehow keeps getting the best ones? Need to know, man. Need to know.
guys, this is not what I was talking about – Jeremy Bentham, designer of The Panopticon
I realize that a lot of non-males are also in the employ of the government and also tasked with watching us, but we need to all just accept the fact that the idea of guys in a circle jerk around floor-to-ceiling screens of our private communications is funnier than lots of things.
Sometimes I ponder the idea of taking up sexting just to troll them. I could send some boring-ass (and confusing as hell) sexts, I’m confident of that much.
Maybe if I did, they’d start taking me up on all those invitations to tea I extend to them when making personal phone calls, texting, or posting on Facebook.