Back in the innocent '50s, Vance Packard wrote a book titled "A Nation of Sheep," about how we as a society were being led around by the noses by bad ol' advertisers. Back then, actors playing doctors would tell us that smoking was good for us, and we'd gladly suck that wonderful, carcinogenic shit through our tracheotomy holes until we were, at last, puff, puff, taken home to Jesus.
Today those actors are now playing journalists. The agencies of our government are now the advertisers, using our own money to tell us that, no matter how sore and tender our lower orifices may be, we haven't been screwed at all, and whatever they rammed there is hmmm, hmmm, good. Of course, no harm, no foul, and pay no attention to the con man behind the curtain, for the Justice Department (inaptly named, as it turns out), who deemed that torture is not such a bad thing, has rendered an opinion that it's perfectly fine for the government to f*** whomever it chooses, with no advance warning and without permission. (Rules may vary without notice; pain may be more intense in the Blue States.)
Please cry for me, Argentina.
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