Rachel Parsons writes about...

Dealing with Bureaucracy

Hi Jerry and Don:

Just read the forum about Jerry’s experience with the Patriot Act. So I went back and read his editorial. And then discovered I forgot my password and even screen name. Oh, well.

Jerry’s problem was that he was thinking like a law-abiding citizen, which, in fascist times, is not a good thing. He should have set up a corporation. (It can be done for as little as $300-500.) Have someone (wife, girlfriend, etc.) as the second person needed. Then who should be the major shareholders? Why you and him, of course.

In Oregon, you don’t have to give your shareholders out. If they do in Washington, then that can be a shell company. An IBC will do. Then of course, set up one of those notorious offshore bank accounts (I think the Bank of Canada counts).

But then I encrypt my e-mail, don’t register my, um, well, in case Big Brother is watching, my something or other’s, and show other signs of disturbed, paranoid behavior. After all, the government is only here to protect us, right?

The trick is to be like a snowflake in a blizzard. I learned this from a John McDonald book, where Travis McGee (in the 1970’s, so this has been going on a long time) decided the only way to be anonymous in current society is to have so many different bank accounts, drivers’ licenses, etc. that they would not be able to trace which one was really his.

Anyway, I’m buying a Tag Zapper when they come out to disable the smart ID cards Chancellor... er... President Bush wants all Aryan-Americans to have by the year 2010. (Wasn’t that the year the aliens were going to take over Europa and make Jupiter into a second sun?)

Also, one way to wreck the system is to follow all its orders literally. (A kind of rule-strike.) A friend of mine came home from England and was asked to roll down his pants by Airport Security.

“Pull down my pants?”

“Yes, sir, roll down your pants.”

“Pull down my pants?”

“Yes, sir, roll down your pants.”

“Okay!” And he pulls down his pants. (He has it all on tape, so he argues they told him to do it.) Of course pandemonium results.

Rachel

Copyright © 2006 by Rachel Parsons

Very colorful, Rachel. Literal-mindedness as a form of civil disobedience has an official name in French: la grève du zèle (literally ‘the zeal strike’), which may tell us a certain something about French culture. In Canada, it’s known as “work to rule,” which has always made me wonder just how much sense the rules made in the first place.

Jerry, you can skip the rest in good conscience. You’ve already heard an oral version of these minor epics.

When passing through airport security once, my baggage was investigated by an inspector who had never seen a certain toiletry appliance before:

“What’s this?”

“An electric toothbrush.”

“Oh. Turn it on. And aim it at that wall over there, please.”

At another time, Dana and I were passing through Immigration at Pearson Airport, in Toronto. Picture a respectable middle-aged (ahem...) couple with a cart of baggage. What could be more ordinary; but a bulky and officious Colonel Blimp must have been behind on his quota of suspects that day. The exchange can be looked upon as a kind of virtual poker game:

Deuce of clubs: Col. Blimp goes through the usual question routine. Then, studying our passports, he asks in an officially peremptory tone of “gotcha!”: “Are you two married?”

Ace of hearts: Dana silently hands over a copy of our marriage certificate. Talk about armed to the teeth...

Three of clubs: Col. Blimp (more “gotcha”): “Why are you traveling under different names?”

King of hearts: Don (straightening up from under the load of baggage; in stentorian tones): “Professor Paramskas has amassed a lengthy bibliography of scholarly publications under her own name in the course of a distinguished academic career. She goes by no other name but hers.”

Four of clubs: Col. Blimp (flustered, looks at my Canadian passport and takes another tack): “Do you live in Canada?”

Jack of hearts: Don (Blimp is on the ropes; my passport has my address): “I am an American citizen-”

Queen of hearts: Col. Blimp (bleating indignantly as Dana hands him my U.S. passport): “Why didn’t you say so...”

Ten of hearts: I regret to this day that Col. Blimp cut off my punch line:
“In the words of saint Paul, I appeal to the emperor! Albeit your emperor does not appeal to me.”

You won’t always need a royal flush, but when you play the game, be sure you have all the cards up your sleeve.

Don