Big brother is "keeping us safe"

The news can be a scary thing.

Take, for instance this report from Sunday, which noted the growing popularity of unmanned (drone) aircraft designed to give a birds-eye view of the ground. Widely used by the military to monitor the ground movements of foreign and terrorist troops, these spy planes and helicopters are gaining use in the states by both government and private corporations.

I’m actually less concerned about businesses using these little tech toys than I am about what the state may do with them.

I read a story the other day that noted that citizens of London are caught on a security camera hundreds of times per day on average. While London is widely known to be the most spied-on city in the world, what’s to say that New York, DC, and even Buffalo isn’t next?

After all, we also found out last week the the New York (City) Police Department had made a habit of infiltrating college campuses in order to watch the activities of Muslim groups. They even came all the way to the University at Buffalo to see what we had going on in our neck of the woods. If the NYPD can spy on us in Buffalo, there’s not much to prevent the feds from doing the same, is there?

Of course, we already have traffic light cameras. Despite the protests of several citizens groups and the NYCLU, these little snap shooters have been quietly installed around Western New York under the guise of “keeping us safe.”

Tell that to London. According to a recent report, there's been little or no change in London's crime rates since all those closed-circuit cameras were more widely installed in the mid 1980s. In nearly 30 years, despite having 51,000 spy cameras strategically located around the city, crime rates are about the same.

If only they had every criminal’s DNA, like Gov. Andrew Cuomo is asking for.

The governor is seeking an “expansion” of the “database” of criminals’ DNA. This was the way the governor’s office worded it. And nearly every news agency in New York State reported it as such using the phrase “database expansion.”

Google the phrase “database expansion” and you’ll get hundreds of hits — all related to this story.
When you think of “database expansion,” though, do you think of the compelled (forced) plundering of the biogenetic makeup of our fellow citizens? Or does it sound the fresh new catchphrase at an accounting firm?

It’s already the case that anyone who is found guilty of a felony has to surrender a DNA sample. This “expansion” would include all misdemeanors. Any conviction. Period.

Law enforcement has come out in support of this, understandably so. But I’ve been amazed at the lack of opposition to this plan. The idea of the state owning a piece of what it is that makes me “me” is downright frightening. I’d like to be self-owned, thank you very much.

When the state can track our every movement and literally owns a piece of us, what does that make us? Property? Pets?

Of course, they’re doing so under the guise of “keeping us safe.”

Maybe we should just be grateful to have an “older sibling” who is so concerned about our safety.

GOP: Desperately seeking someone

So, Rick Santorum. Huh. Why not?

The former senator from Pennsylvania seems to be the Republican party’s flavor of the week in a game they’re playing called, “Which one of you is not Mitt Romney?”

I’ll give Senator Santorum this: He believes what he says. Of course, that’s the difference between liars and mad men. Liars know they’re full of it, while mad men completely believe the crazy things they say.

Take the latest example of “Republicans saying stupid things,” which Santorum provided during an interview with Bob Schieffer of CBS’s Face the Nation: “The bottom line is that a lot of prenatal tests are done to identify deformities in utero and the customary procedure is to encourage abortions.”

This is Santorum’s response to President Obama’s suggestion that birth control and many types of pre-natal care should be provided free of charge by employers and health insurance providers.

For so many in the leadership of the Republican Party, “family planning” and “abortion” are synonyms. From their perspective, the only purpose for Planned Parenthood is to provide abortions. Never mind the fact that 97 percent of what the organization does is everything else. All that matters is that three percent of the time, they perform abortions every time.

I’d like to state two facts, one which is readily apparent and the other, which anyone who’s followed my career already knows.

1) I am not a woman.

2) I’m pro-life.

That said, as much as I abhor abortions, I also abhor the divisive politics being played here by Senator Santorum.

To make a parallel-logic statement, if you find out you’re suffering from a deadly disease, you may engage in risky behavior, so you shouldn’t be screened for certain types of cancer.

Of course, that sounds stupid. But following the if-then schematic laid out by GOP flavor No. 5, it’s pure logic.

Of course, if you really follow their logic, you should be forced to smoke non-filtered cigarettes first, too.

At some point over the course of the past decade or so, knowledge became the enemy to the Republican Party. For many of the rank-and-file, science is evil and facts just get in the way of a good invasion, so they encourage that we bury our heads in the sand and not offer pre-natal screening or birth control.

The scariest part for me is that an increasing number of people seem to agree with Santorum’s view.

I’m all for replacing Barack Obama come November, but only with someone better. And the GOP hasn’t found that person yet. It sure isn’t Rick Santorum.

There's nothing flakey about it

The new apartment is so much bigger than my previous place. That means that several items which I’ve had in storage are actually being used — or prominently on display.

Sunday afternoon I was cleaning up and organizing my bedroom, one of the last rooms in the house to be tended to. (I never got my bedroom painted in my old apartment, despite living there for 18 months). I took my box of Flutie Flakes and put them on top of my dresser, surrounded by a couple of stuffed hedgehogs and a stuffed bear.

And my girlfriend immediately started picking on me!

You’re thinking she was picking on my for owning stuffed animals, right? That’s where I thought she was going to go when she started laughing. I mean, what self-respecting adult male has a collection of stuffed animals that he keeps on display?

But, no, she had seen the hedgehogs and the polar bear before. It was the Flutie Flakes that apparently drew her attention.

The box is in pristine condition — still unopened. They go for about $10 on eBay. Of course, I didn’t know that until about 30 seconds ago because I’ve never considered selling it.

For one, it provides “10 essential vitamins and minerals.” For another thing, it’s kind of signed. In the same manner that all first-edition Flutie Flakes were signed. And lastly (this may be key), my dad gave it to me.

“I’ll bet 10 percent of men in Western New York still have a box of Flutie Flakes,” I told her.

She seemed to doubt this supposition on my part and contends that any self-respecting male that does have a box of Flutie Flakes has them hidden in a closet somewhere so his wife or girlfriend won’t throw it out.

I know I’ve said previously that I’m not a huge sports fan, but c’mon. Doug Flutie? How could you not like the guy. For a while, he was the hero of 50 percent of guys in the Buffalo area. The other 50 percent, for some reason, hated him.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe the “shrine” (her words not mine) to the Flutie Flakes is a bit much.

Eventually, they’ll end up on a shelf along with other items she’ll think should embarrass me but don’t, like my tin Labatt Blue sign which she suggested should go in the “man cave” (attic).

But for now, my box of Flutie Flakes will be prominently displayed in my bedroom — where no one other than her or I will see them.

But I have to ask you guys, where do you keep yours?

Don't wait to be productive

I’ve always been a bit of a night person. It started in college when I would stay up all hours of the night — doing homework. Or something.

I’ve gone back and forth between day jobs and night jobs since then. My current job sees me leave work around 2 in the morning. I go home, putz around on the Internet, have something to eat, drink some coffee and finally head to bed around 5.

Some nights, though, I feel like being productive. Such was the case Sunday night as I sat in my new kitchen and stared at the walls in disgust. That wallpaper was the ugliest thing ever.

I say “was” because at 2:30 Monday morning (to me it’s still Sunday night, though), I got out a step stool and started peeling wallpaper. I only intended to do a corner as a test — to see how easily the wallpaper came down. To my delight, it peeled off the wall quite easily. The problem with that, though, was that I just kept peeling. Instead of doing a corner, I did three whole walls and part of a fourth. By the time you read this, all that horrible wallpaper will be down. And some time next week, I’ll consider painting.

Every day I add items to my to-do list. Most days I mark items off my to-do list. Some days I even do those tasks before marking them done.

The new apartment means a constantly evolving to do list. As soon as I accomplish one task, it occurs to me that two others need done. I should name my to-do list Hydra.

One of the myriad problems that comes with being a night person is that many of the things on my to-do list simply can’t be done at night. Sure, I can do dishes and laundry, but I can’t really hang the shelves that I need to. And I’m pretty sure my downstairs neighbor might be a touch upset if I vacuumed. I can shop for groceries, but banking at 4 in the morning doesn’t work so well.

I met another neighbor on Sunday. He was doing some spring cleaning and I took the opportunity to go say “hi.” I introduced myself the same way I always do: “Scott.” We talked for a bit and then he glanced at my license plate. For those who don’t know, it says “LEFFLER.”

My neighbor turns to me and says, “There used to be a Scott Leffler.”

I love the way he phrased it. “There used to be ...” Of course, I told him there still is and I am, in fact, the same Scott Leffler that used to be. As it turns out, he knows my name from my radio days. Also, I know his daughter. That happens a lot — both the radio thing and the daughter thing.

But not to worry dads, I’m not looking. I’m pretty content with my girlfriend — who at 4 o’clock Monday morning was dying her hair.