Hi, I am fine today. Or sick in bed. Or in a hammock. And, incidentally, it may be night.
Am I paranoid? LA and New York each have two or three "spy shops" that sell espionage devices that are, essentially, the same deal the CIA uses. Think I'm imagining it? Look in the phone book. And who do you think is keeping these stores in business? The lonely old man who wants a better look at the young librarian across the alleyway? No. Persons engaging in unlawful and unethical inner-industry espionage. And what industry has less regard for laws and ethics than mine? If you answered Mafia, I'll give you that one. But we're #2. And who, within my industry, are the chief perpetrators? You've heard, ad nauseum, about the pressures driving journalists at the New York Timeses and Washington Posts to ethical violations in pursuit of a story. So is it so hard to believe that the sort of journalists entirely devoid of ethics would try to get a peek at my e-mail?
I know of a sleazy tabloid reporter whose girlfriend dumped him (due in no small part to the fact that he was a sleazoid reporter). Six months later, she took up with a "sleb." Doesn't matter who. Mr. Sleazoid still had the key to her place. So he used it when she was at work, went into her bedroom, and duct-taped a voice-activated tape recorder beneath her dresser. This sort of device recognizes TV signals and such, and quits recording after a couple seconds of it, so it winds up with just phone conversations and in-person chat. In this case, it proved largely pillow talk with the celebrated new boyfriend. A couple weeks later, Sleazoid went back in, retrieved the tape recorder, and among the nine crystal clear hours it had picked up was a scoop that translated into the down payment a new Audi for Sleazoid. This episode notwithstanding, Sleazoid is commonly regarded among the more ethical "entertainment journalists." If that doesn't give you an appreciation, or lack thereof, for the rest of the field infesting L, chew on these: If you haven't had your cell calls intercepted, you're on the C List, baby. Companies who come into homes and/or offices and "sweep" for electronic eavesdropping and surveillance devices are nearly as common as shrinks, and in L, that's saying something. I know of someone who, unsure of her blood type, happen to read it, among other private details, in a fanzine (someone had hacked into the system at the medical facility she goes to).
As ridiculous as it may seem--to me more than anyone--my little story would be worth the down payment on a Mercedes, at least, to the enterprising reporter who brings it to the "Star." They would think nothing of throwing a few hundred bucks to some shady computer geek to figure out the origin of this blog. Not to be intentionally vague or unduly accusatory or otherwise like Joe McCarthy, but I have some evidence.
Responses to "Private" Posts (hopefully now you either have some appreciation of why I'm not e-mailing or posting to your websites, or you're able to deliver a compelling case disabusing me of my paranoia):
To Wendy, re: your tip on the sort of thing I've just been discussing, send it, please. To Jess, my statement about "embellishment" was derived from the post that included "But telling as much as I did (which, granted was more posturing than revelation..." A misunderstanding re: what you meant by posturing? If so, let's digitally kiss and make up. To Mr. Sorrow, you would the lead counsel for the defense in the paranoia argument. Permit me to share one of your posts? To BatChick, just thinking stuff like that can get you put in prison in some states. And five Dodge Viper Points to you for doing so.
Reply To Bard:
Re: yesterday's post, Bard S. wrote: In deciding to write this "revelatory" blog, Rance, whose enlightment were you seeking: ours (the readers)or your own? Maybe some of both? The suggestion that industry photos and articles are--gasp!--often planned? Consider me underwhelmed at that particular revelation. We have all seen that you can offer far more intriguing and personal insights into your world.
Reply: Yes, you are right about the caliber of the revelation, Bard. Relatively. I expect you'd be surprised by the number of posters who absolutely refused to believe the existence of brothels like the one I detailed last week. So we have to enlighten them in baby steps. But that's them. Here's one for you and others at the Advanced Level -- not a huge secret in town, but it's nice to remember in general the high and exalted do stuff ike this: A purportedly righteous middle-aged white man who is a key player in a major company likes to have something delivered to the doorstep of his beach house on weekends. It is a very large wicker basket with a big pink bow on the handle. It contains two sleeping, small young men (the more boyish the better, twins if possible, the less body hair the better, and Asian is a must), bundled up like kittens and in each other's embrace. The trio then goes into the house and does stuff the details of which would, I imagine, turn even Michael Jackson pale (come to think of it, maybe hearing those details is how he got that way). I'm not going to name names as I am not completely insane. I can't imagine who or what kind of company provides this service (should they see this and want to sate our curiosity, I'll gladly post the info, and, if they want, a link to their site). Granted this is not terribly insightful, but that's all I got today, and what am I anyway, the Dali Lama? (please no posts asking if I have met him.)
Posted by captainhoof
at 12:07 PM CST
Updated: Thursday, 25 March 2004 12:51 PM CST
