My friend Jill Erber is all over the place lately talking about the federal crackdown on mimolette:
It all started with Bush! And Jill Erber was there, fighting the good fight!
This woman has nothing to hide and therefore welcomes ongoing data-rich surveillance of her activities.
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Director of National Intelligence James Clapper’s ‘least untruthful’ formulation of an answer to Ron Wyden made clear that the volume of information stored by the federal government about Americans’ communications has been dramatically understated. Julian Sanchez, a research fellow at the Cato Institute, argues that an honest debate about the supposed tradeoffs between liberty and security is one that can be had in public without giving over essential information to bad actors.
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The country that would become the United States fought a revolution to turn back the kinds of abuses that had made King George so despised. One of those abuses was the use of “general warrants,” a kind of police authorization that required no specific goal or purpose. The National Security Agency, in vacuuming up so much of Americans’ communications, has effectively recreated the general warrant. Here’s Jim Harper discussing the implications of maintaining vast databases of Americans’ communications without cause.
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Yesterday I got this handy reminder from Verizon to update my phone so I can more easily send everything up into their cloud. Thanks, guys! Talk about bad timing.
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Jim Harper lays out the likely legal justification the NSA uses to vacuum up millions of Americans’ contacts, credit card records, e-mails and other data.
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Leigh Alexander, that is:
Still, it’s entirely possible Domino’s pizza has simply remained the kind of thing that you just think tastes good at 2 AM, when you’ve been not-sleeping during a New York weekend and feel like being fed by an over-earnest corporation at an absurd hour. It almost doesn’t matter, because it’s very easy for Domino’s to start feeling like a pal on those nights when you tumble drunk and alone into a taxi and realize that you need to eat, urgently. You leave a party in Chelsea or a venue in Williamsburg, stumble into a car in a pile of your own unraveling frippery, mess clumsily with your iPhone for two minutes, and have a pizza ready to take to bed by the time you get home.
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