06 June 2009

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--ringtone, my favorite song as of 2 months ago--

--cussing, fumbling around my room, shock--

"Uh, h-hello?"

"You saw that, didn't ya?"

"W..what? Cam? Yeah, yeah I did but how--"

"Local lines are back up, didn't you hear?"

"Yeah, but no, no I didn't, and this is my ce--"

"Callin' from my landline. You're fine."

"I...I guess? But that's ridi--"

"Did ya catch ANYTHING after the spot last night?"

"Not a thing...I mean...I saw that, right? That happened, right?"

"Shit yeah it happened! Look, just get down to the After. Welsh is buyin'. We're national!"

"So it was...?"

"Yeah, just get here! I'll fill you in on everything you missed."

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05 June 2009

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State of the Nation speech: The CliffsNotes version

Well not really CliffsNotes. I mean, I'm not explaining what he said. It's pretty self-explanatory. I just...listen, look, bear with me here, I'm a mess.

"Our country, our very lives, changed forever."

"Sleeper cells awakened simultaneously."

"Unprecedented coordination."

"Frankly, we were caught not just with our pants down. We were caught with our skivvies (well okay he didn't say skivvies but c'mon just imagine him saying it...hilarious, yes?) around our ankles, making funny poses at the mirror."

And the bombshell: "We cannot be 100% certain that all elements have been discovered."

Dramatic pause for effect.

"We have no reason to believe there will be further attacks. We have heard no 'chatter.' We have not stopped any continuing attacks. But given how unawares we were caught the first time, I cannot in good faith promise it is over. I can promise, however, to do everything possible to ensure this does not happen again."

So of course I'm thinking, at this point, then what about the project I've been working on this past week? People are gonna want to--

"Naturally, people will wish to protect and defend themselves. They have that Constitutional right. But I do not want this to devolve into vigilante justice, which is often little more than thinly disguised racial violence. ALL use of lethal force, both by law enforcement officers and by common citizens, will be thoroughly investigated and the harshest punishments sought for convictions."

Well fair enough, I figure. The Second Amendment is in play without any political interpretations, but people know their actions have consequences.

From there President Lee segued into restating his guns-for-food program, drastic increase in police and military hires, statistics from the first few days, and the like.

"Already the program is showing signs of success, in many ways. And perhaps in some unexpected ways as well."

At which point, the impossible happened. All I remember is Chris's voice.

"Times are tough...."


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04 June 2009

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Orange-brown legal-sized envelope lying opened on the desk. Papers scattered, final drafts under scrutiny. Flourescent overheads buzz. Three pairs of lungs frozen. One pair operates slowly, their owner lost in study.

"Man, that's awesome stuff and you know it. Let's go home." Chris shatters the lung-ice and the silence.

Cam slowly places the papers down. Scratches his beard; pushes his glasses up. Same slow breathing rhythm. Stares straight forward, away from us. Slowly, both hands rise, thumbs-up. He turns and grins.

"I think we got something good goin' here guys. Great stuff, the Cheif'll be happy with this. I'll pass it on."

Chris whoops with approval. Elle flashes that Smile To End All Smiles and her body sags with a sigh of relief. Me? Fistpump. I'm big on fistpumps.

And with that, our first project is complete. No celebrations yet; we still don't know how far our ads will be shown. Again, we're guaranteed city-wide exposure. County-wide and we'll order a celebratory lunch pizza. State-wide, though...state-wide will net us each a $1,000 bonus. Nation-wide's not even worth mentioning. I'm not sure it goes that high, and even if it does, surely they've got professionals taking care of projects of that size.

We took three different angles with the guns-for-food program. Our instructions, interestingly enough, were not just to inform, but to sell the program a bit. The Higher-Ups wanted to make sure people were taking the government up on its offer. Restores faith and builds trust, they emphasized. Very important in the post-attack world.

Angle 1 was the Vanilla Angle. No plays on the public's emotions, just an appeal to reason. Listed the facts of the program, where to take weapons and ammunition, and why this was what you wanted to do. Namely, you can't consume gunpowder, and squirrel meat is too gamey for most meat dishes.

Angle 2 was the Stats Angle. Did you know how much the average handgun was worth? How many loaves of bread, cans of soup, diapers, bottles of aspirin that translated into? Were you aware that, since 5/6, nearly 67% of break-ins resulted in stolen guns? That in half of reported break-ins involving the use of firearms, it was the intruder using the soon-to-be-victims' weapon? Have you noticed that Police and Special Forces have increased their numbers by 300% (500% over the next two weeks),
and are now patrolling residential areas on a regular basis? Now you know. (The numbers were provided; we weren't told how the data was gathered but we were assured they were accurate.)

Angle 3 was my baby. I came up with it after speaking with Linda, and with a little research the numbers provided a strong base to an emotional argument. Numbers-wise, even before the attack there was a strong positive correlation between firearm ownership and suicide. The correlation skyrocketed after 5/6, as did instances of domestic violence involving firearms.

"Times are tough. Why tempt fate? Turn your guns into food. Turn you guns into provisions. Turn your guns into Hope."

Oh yeah. Powerful stuff.

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03 June 2009

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Checked my e-mail today, for the hell of it more than anything really. I mean, with half the internet inaccessible, nationwide communication slowed to a snail's pace, and my luck being what it is it'd be an exercise in futility. But the need for information sometimes overrides reason.

So imagine my surprise to find an e-mail from Andy, dated a couple of days ago.

Basically, he explained how he'd noticed that he was still getting e-mails from friends located relatively near him. Why and how geography should interfere with e-mail was beyond him (and me for that matter, but this is more his line of expertise), but he was working on it in his off-time.

"It just feels wrong, man."

But in the meantime, how was I doing, had I found a job, did I need a place to crash, or maybe a large cardboard box to borrow?

I wrote him back, thanking him and bragging about my position. Then,

Sending...

Sending...

Sending...

(about now I'm ready to accept it was a fluke, or maybe a letter that snuck through during the short uptime from before)

Sending...

Sending...

Sent.

Wait what?

Took forever, but eventually got the Sent! confirmation. Maybe all that talk about working to restore the network was more than the usual empty government promises?

Anyway.

We're almost finished with the guns-for-food project. I'll detail more about it tomorrow. We've got a 30-second public service tv ad and radio ad (I wrote the scripts, they are awesome and informative and perfect). Elle's putting the finishing touches on the print ad. Tomorrow, provided everything passes Cam's approval, Chris will do the voiceovers and we'll ship everything out. Our ads will run throughout the city, and depending on how effective they are, could be shown to a wider region.

Guess it's a bit ambitious to shoot for creating the state's official campaign on my first project, but no point in aiming low, yah?

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02 June 2009

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Had to do a quick press release today announcing a special 'State of the Nation' prepared video to be broadcast on all stations on the one-month anniversary of the attack, June 5th/6th. The wording was interesting. My instructions were to make it sound like required viewing if at all possible, which strikes me as funny simply because anyone and everyone capable of doing so, would do so.

Still getting used to working with the other members of our little +. We haven't done much of anything together ever since that one party none of us seem to remember too clearly, but we all have a vague sense of getting along well.

Cam seems to be the elder of the group, relatively speaking. He's the guy we all report to with our projects, whether they be individual assignments or group works. Dark-haired, tall, lanky, goateed. Thin black-wire glasses.

Chris so far has acted as my backup when it comes to scriptwriting for any audio or visual ads. He'll also be the voice behind any tv or radio spots I write up. Thick without being fat, a little taller than me (making him average height, I guess). Spiky brown hair that seems to spark with an energy he's always trying to find a way to expel.

Elle is the graphic designer of the group. Petite. Hair today is purple. Long and straight. Asymmetrical ear piercings. Fashionable in that way those gifted in the visual arts always seem to be. No glasses covering her blue eyes (too bad). Head always bobbing to music only she can hear. Wonder what her favorite band is. And oh my god that smile.

oh my god

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01 June 2009

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Started on my first project today. We'll get to that in a sec. First...concerning the future of my blog. I've done a lotta thinking after how surrprisingly...detailed...the background check on me was. It's obvious that they were checking up on my internet activity somehow, but they never mentioned specifics. Never quoted me on anything I said.

I suspect they tracked me via e-mail address, through site registrations and the like, but aren't looking too deeply at WHAT I write. I have no way of knowing this, other than a suspicion they would have dropped a little hint that my words were watched.

Unless they WANT me to think that.

Oh god where's my tinfoil....

But seriously, there's no way they're watching everything everybody says, even if it were only city employees. I can't take chances, I know, and yet I'd hardly call this 'taking a chance.' I'll keep writing, and I'll keep chronicling what I can. I can't stand the thought of censoring myself. I mean, we ARE still America, even if it is a time of crisis. If my employers don't like something I say, IF they see it, they'll talk to me about it. It's not like I'm talking bad about them or giving them a bad name.

I guess I'm still just a little spooked from the, ah, discussion, last week.

Obviously though, if something comes across my desk labelled 'top secret,' well, you guys won't be hearing a thing about it.

My first project had no such label. And, if I do my job right, you should be able to see the final result of my work by the end of the week. I was given full details about the guns-for-food program I mentioned before, and it's my job to create PSAs to help spread the word and encourage people to participate.

I've got several angles to go with here. I mean, it's easy to go with the stats of how often weapons kept for personal security are used against the owner. But then, Linda's story would make a great one as well, in a way. How the gun can be used to escape your troubles in a far-more-positive manner.

Deadline's end of work Friday to have a TV and radio ad script, as well as print ad details. I'll be sure to put up what I can on here.

God, Linda...hope her husband got registered. Or at least that there are special exceptions for those dealing with special circumstances.

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31 May 2009

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And on the Sabbath day, he rested.

Where rest is defined as got in a round of disc golf. A very unsatisfying round. A very wet round.

Watching a disc fly off and make an unexpected slow arc towards the stream is a less-than-life-affirming feeling. Knowing the water is knee-deep while not knowing where extra discs can be purchased, or if they're still being produced, combine into knowing that I'll suffer wetleg until I can walk back home.

Slipping on a rock saved me from suffering wetleg. Instead I was treated to a full-body soaking.

Some people pay good money for this kind of entertainment.

Unpredictable disc flight is often due to wind. With summer coming on, the wind is usually a welcome companion otherwise. But of course, today we weren't on speaking terms, Mr. Wind and I.

As I approached my complex, dripping and cussing, I noticed my mailbox. Haven't checked it in days. Something was sticking out, unable to fit completely in the box.

My first issue of the PDGA member magazine had arrived.

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