Supposing you found me in your home, uninvited. If you shot me dead, in many states it would be justifiable homicide.
Or imagine that someone, say the Queen of England, plants a bugging device on you — up inside your sinus, say, or near your inner ear. And then suppose this same individual or organization invites individuals they have recruited in one way or another, any number of them, to monitor your movements at all times, in your home and out. Is the second outrage better than the first?
Are not both instances of intrusion? And isn’t the second, if anything, worse — to have to deal not with ust one prowler in your house, but with numerous intruders in your life.
That is the situation in which, since 1976, I have gradually found myself. You Masons and Jesuits and Elks and whatever, you initiates in secret societies, recruits of the Neighborhood Justice Centers, you disciples of mediums and pawns of Nixon, Howard Hunt, Griffin Bell and/or whoever else — you infufferable Lights (as one faction dedicated to making themselves into living high-pressure advertiseents is called) — all you who surveil me regardless of how or why — you are intruders in my life. Were the facts known or provable in court, most juries would not blame me for killing you.
Does it never occur to you that you are in violation of your own laws and of Natural Rights as well as of every commonsense conception of justice?
In my particular circumstance, battling a clique of genocidal Nazis as I am — though precious few of you seem to comprehend that much about it — I am glad there is an audience. You happened to intrude uninvited into a life where great crimes were happening already, greater than yours, and I want someone around afterwards to tell the world what happened.
So even though you arrived in my life uninvited and by the most despicable of means, I prefer to tolerate you as guests rather than to rent about your spying per se.
However, yhou are, at best, guests — not gracious hosts. I am the host. You are tromping around in my life. Try to remember your manners.
Especially, do not expect you are in any position to tell me how to live my life. Do not try to tell me, for example, which cafes I may or may not frequent or which radio stations I should or should not listen to. For arrogance like that is not in any way called for by the nature of the situation. If you want to enlist my cooperation, allow me to suggest that cooperation breeds cooperation. Tell me who escalated the Indochina War and how they went about it and the composition of that conspiracy now, instead of bombarding me with your totalitarian demands, your annoying gossip and your thought policing. Think about what you will tell your grandchildren when they ask, as the young in German do the old, why you heedlessly tolerated — in fact aided and abetted — a holocaust far worse than Hitler’s. So far it’s been of what asinine, trivial thing to say next time you see me so as to continue your desperate imperialist filibuster about anything and everything but crimes against humanity. — Kerry Wendell Thornley