Privacy

How do I despise the USSA’s socialist health care system? Let me count the ways!

That’s what CLS posted in the wee hours this morning, but without a link to back up the claim. A Wall Street Journal article has the details (emphasis mine):

The account of Client-9's [Spitzer] appointment is part of a larger case that broke last week when federal prosecutors in Manhattan charged four people with organizing and managing an international prostitution ring, known as the Emperors Club VIP.

According to the complaint and the sworn statement, the Emperors Club arranged connections between wealthy male clients and more than 50 prostitutes in locations from New York and Washington to Paris and London. The club's Web site showed photographs of prostitutes' bodies, with their heads hidden, and ranked the women with a "diamond" system. Fees varied by rank, from $1,000 an hour to more than $5,500 an hour.

The Federal Bureau of Investigation's inquiry began in October 2007, when it was triggered at least in part by a bank that filed "suspicious activity" reports on the New York governor with the Treasury Department's Financial Crimes Enforcement Network, according to a federal law-enforcement official and a lawyer involved in the matter. Suspicious activity reports are filed with the Internal Revenue Service when banks detect something unusual either through their tellers or software, including transfers of large amounts of cash, unknown counterparties, or the use of known tax havens and money-laundering centers.

The bank was concerned that Mr. Spitzer might have been engaged in "structuring," a money-laundering technique in which transactions are kept beneath $10,000 to avoid federal reporting rules, the official said. There has been a massive federal crackdown on money laundering in the wake of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, and banks have been extremely diligent in filing such reports. Those reports often include details of transactions done by innocent people.

The suspicious transactions by Mr. Spitzer are a major part of the investigation, the federal official said, confirming a report by ABC News. It isn't clear if federal investigators were engaged in a crackdown on the prostitution ring when Mr. Spitzer entered their sights as an alleged client of the ring, or whether Mr. Spitzer's transactions helped trigger a probe of the prostitution operation.

So, as we were discussing previously, one can forget financial privacy from institutions. Cash is quieter; and with the economic turmoil cranking up, it may not be a bad idea for risk avoidance to keep a moderate stash on hand anyway.

I have used Pretty Good Privacy (PGP) for a very long time now. One thing I particularly liked about it is that the encryption not only scrambled the content of email, it obscured its length. I can recall receiving a long, encrypted message, and upon decrypting, a very short message was revealed. Similarly, long unencrypted messages were not noticeably, nor predictably longer than short ones when encrypted.

But that has changed; nowadays it’s fairly easy to gauge the length of an email by its encrypted length. At least, it is for me; I’m currently using KGpg, with my PGP keys that were generated a couple of years ago (don’t recall what version of PGP that was). What changed in encryption tech to cause this loss of file-length obscuring?

There’s been a lot of commentary over the USSA’s fall into blackness in the 2007 International Privacy Ranking, and rightly so. But when I look at their map, I see something far worse.

It’s to be expected from the govgoons and burricrats, of course—it is part and parcel of their desire to track, and to be efficacious in tracking, individuals throughout all their activities, across all their days. But I have seen the cry echoed across one too many a private place. “You should have to use your real name!” squawk the parroting, semi-non-thinking plebes. Well, pray tell me this first: what is a real name—and what is real about a name?

I’m not sure that that’s the most accurate way to describe Prosper—although the home page’s title says “people to people lending” so I guess I’m not too far off. What an intriguing idea ...

We have been “had” by the increasing power of the state, as well as much of the mainstream media’s complacency in reporting on it.

If you want to know why I put part of the verb in quotation marks, please see Shaun Saunders’ latest story, posted here with his kind permission. Very timely stuff, and as usual, an excellent tale.

[Sunni notes: Shaun sent me this story sometime in September or October 2007. I really liked it, but being busy and lazy and having email problems all contributed to it being pushed out of my mind for a while. Ultimately, I think that worked all for the best; the recent spate of taserings and taser-caused deaths, along with the state-ordered forced vaccination of children in Prince George’s County, Maryland—a barbarous act that only the American Association of Physicians and Surgeons has protested thus far— make its publication now (11/21/07) an especially pointed reminder that dystopian fiction is increasingly becoming reality.]



In the cavernous underground parking area of the sprawling Fabcola Home Shopping Centre, a police cruiser flashed its lights, blipped its siren and cut across an old white sedan, forcing it to pull over near a trolley rank.

The police officer driving the cruiser was six hours into what had been an uneventful shift. Two runaway trolleys were hardly worth reporting, but this was different. With fifteen years on the force, the officer could smell trouble, and the behaviour of the driver he’d just pulled over was definitely erratic.

He radioed in the car’s plates, advised Central that he might have a situation on his hands, and hoisted himself out of the cruiser. Immediately he felt his knees protest, and rued that at thirty-five, he was just too old for these sorts of shenanigans.

“Good afternoon Sir,” the officer said as he approached the sedan, breathing heavily. “Would you mind explaining what you’re doing here this afternoon? I’ve been watching you navigating aimlessly around the lot for over a quarter of an hour.”

Surprised, the nondescript looking driver answered, “Oh, I’ve been trying to find a parking space.”

Warning bells tingled. Straightening his shoulders, the officer screwed up his face, gestured around them at the available parking spaces, and said, “There are plenty of disabled spots...so what’s the problem?”

“Officer, I’m looking for a regular spot,” the driver replied.

“What for? I doubt there are any left now by this time of day – since no one uses them they’ve usually taken for granted by trades and delivery people.” He narrowed his eyes, peering. “But I don’t see one of those stickers on your windshield.”

The driver calmly answered, “No, I’m not a trades or delivery person, Officer. I’m also not disabled.”

The officer stiffened; vestiges of his basic training kicked in. He took half a step closer so that he could get a better view of the driver through the open side window. The guy did look mighty thin and sure enough, there was no disabled sticker on the windshield either. His right index finger began trapping on the butt of the holstered Taser. He had to be careful. If the perp was one of those whacked-out vitamin freaks, even a jolt of a few hundred kV might not be enough to restrain him. Some of the stories he’d heard at the station...“Sir, can you please extend your arm so I can scan your SID?”

The driver complied.

With his other hand, the officer used a palm-sized uplink to scan the driver’s Subcutaneous IDentity chip for Medicare records. Almost immediately the results appeared on the screen of the device, and the officer knew there was something very odd about this suspect. There were no records of any visits to medical practitioners or pharmacists for over 10 years...

Tensely, the officer advised, “Sir, you’re either involved in something very illegal, like one of those vitamin rackets, or you’re actually a very sick man and just don’t know it. I’d rather not even think about the first option.” But I have to, he thought, for my own safety. “I want you to look straight ahead and slowly place your hands on the steering wheel and then don’t move. Not a muscle, not even a twitch. I’ve got to call this in.”

Bewildered, the driver complied. Then, “Officer, I don’t understand. What have I done?”

“Sir, there’s nothing in your file: No blood pressure, diabetes or ADHD medication, not even antidepressants or sleeping pills...in short, you’re a walking time-bomb, just waiting to explode.”

Realising what he’d said, the officer backed away from the car, right hand now firmly grasping the butt of the Taser. Puffing from the exertion, “But I don’t want to upset you Sir. No, not at all. In fact, why don’t you just take a few breaths, calm down, and we’ll sort this out. Sometimes, somehow, some consumers slip through the cracks.” With an edge of desperate hope to his voice, he added, “Maybe even there’s a problem with your SID,” but didn’t believe a word of it.

What he thought was, Hopefully back up will arrive soon.

Risking a quick glance at the at the officer, who was shaking now as he whispered into his radio-mike, the bewildered driver murmured, “It seems I’m not the one who’s stressed here.”



After radioing base and receiving further instructions, with great caution a miniscule blood sample was taken from the suspect’s thumb and analysed on the spot using the cruiser’s sophisticated onboard equipment. The results confirmed the previous information gleaned from the SID’s Medicare records: “No sign of any pharmaceutical medications...”

Desperate to buy more time, “Sir, this instantly qualifies you for an on-the-spot diagnosis of H.A.D.”

“Had?”

That’s right; keep him talking...make non-threatening conversation, using a soothing tone...

With a kindly voice, “Health Adjustment Disorder: it’s a medical term that applies to people who simply won’t look after themselves.” The officer forced a smile to match his voice. “I know from your SID that you’re forty two years old, right?”

The driver, with his hands back on the steering wheel, shrugged. “Yes officer, that’s correct, of course.”

“Well, in my job, and being in the public eye all day, I have a responsibility to keep up with all the latest facts and figures. Also, all officers have to complete basic first aid and health training. And when it comes to consumer health, I can tell you that the probability of someone your age – or my age for that matter; and I’m a few years younger than you ’ not needing drugs to control your cholesterol, to manage your diabetes, and then some more pharma just to help you get through the day and get some sleep at night when you have all those other problems, well, it’s just about zero. Modern health science tells us that diabetes in particular needs to be monitored from birth, and psychological disorders like attention deficit can make themselves known as early as two years of age.” The officer shook his head. “From there on, it’s just all down hill: arthritis, a smorgasbord of cancers, heart and kidney disease, and a psychological disorder for every day of the year. You know, they’re actually finding new diseases and new mood disorders every day! Oh, the tabloids sometimes have ridiculous stories about consumers who claim they’ve never been sick, but when properly investigated, you learn that it’s just smoke and mirrors to keep their readers interested.” He winked. “You know, those who don’t actually do much reading at all, if you know what I mean.

“But the important thing for health consumers to remember is that to stay one step ahead, you know, while the doctors and researchers and companies are looking for cures, is that we all have to do our bit by looking after ourselves.” The officer sighed with relief — multiple sirens could be heard approaching. “And that means regular visits to your medical practitioner, and taking their advice. Literally.”

The driver spoke. “What are all those sirens for?”

The officer dismissed the question with a vague wave of a hand. With the other he produced a plastic bin from the cruiser. It had multiple lids on top, like segments of an orange, although the officer didn’t realise that connection. “See this?” he asked. “Great idea: each of these little compartments is labelled with a different time of day.” He looked at his watch. “Right about now, I should be having my early evening pills.”

He tipped a dozen into his hand.

The driver’s eyes boggled at the coloured collection of pharmaceuticals. “Oh dear,” he said, “What on earth are all those for?”

“Well, these blue ones are for my depression. The grey ones with the white stripes are for cholesterol, the ones with the red stripes for my gout, and...”

Three vehicles screeched around the corner, sirens and lights blazing and flashing as they spilled backup officers into the car park.

“...you’ll get to know all of them yourself pretty soon, once you get some appropriate care.”

A short time later, after the driver had been Tasered repeatedly and tied into a straight jacket – “You can’t take chances with these sorts,” the officers agreed – and bundled into the back of a padded van destined for a psychiatric institution, he realised that the police officer had been correct, after a fashion: after years of constant exercise, careful eating, and avoiding disease before it required ‘managing’, it was certainly a case of being ‘had’. Before the van had left the subterranean car park, he was already feeling the effects of the “emergency” drugs the paramedics had injected into his bloodstream.

Life would never be the same again.

Another addition from Sunni: If you enjoyed this story, please consider buying Shaun’s new book, Navigating in the New World. It’s a wonderful collection of speculative science fiction.

Yep, you can peer into your genetic code, without a medical monopolist’s permission slip required, for just under $1,000 USSA. The company offering this deal is deCODE, in Iceland.

My favorite Aussie, Shaun Saunders, has a new story up at Antipodean SF. It’s titled I Spy ... and he dedicated it to me. You’ll have to read it to see where the blushing might come in ... and from the looks of the direct link, once a new round of stories is up for judging, it’ll point to something other than I Spy—which means I may just have to post it here for posterity and humility’s sakes.

That won’t happen today though, ’cause I’ve a lot to do before we enjoy an evening out.

I can appreciate how someone immersed in the Amerikan consumer culture would welcome a means by which he or she could reduce the plastic card proliferation that apparently just won’t stop. But I really don’t think National Payment Card’s solution is the best way to accomplish it.

It’s happening just as my friend Shaun Saunders wrote in Mallcity 14. In this excerpt, Jack is explaining how the chipping of humans began:

“... the government of twenty-five years ago exploited something else, an emotion just as strong if not more powerful. As Mary said, that emotion was fear. To recap, banks wanted to know where you spent all of your money, and the governments they controlled wanted to know where you were, always. To achieve these aims all they had to do was to replace the ID cards with the subcutaneous chips. After all, even if we were to transfer over to a cashless society, you wouldn’t need to have an ID card on you twenty-four hours a day. And even if governments made it illegal to leave your home without such a card, people would still be able to choose not to carry one.
“So the next step was to work on people’s fear and insecurities. First of all, they made it mandatory that pets be chipped. That way, people were told, it would be much easier to keep track of lost animals and cheaper to get them registered each year. The next step was to use the media to show how young Johnny or Jane who somehow walked out of their family homes and went missing the week before could have been saved if only the rescuers had found them sooner. Of course, a SID, responding to an outside signal sent by the searchers would have fixed that.
“The next unwitting candidates were people with mental problems, and they were an easy target. People have always been afraid of what they don’t understand, and the notion that mental illness could strike almost anyone was too much for the average person to bear. ‘Will I be next?’ they wondered. It made absolute sense then to chip those people, for their good and that of society. Besides, their numbers were always increasing, although people didn’t seem to understand why. Following them came prisoners on day release and home detention. Then came people who needed help from social security such as pensioners and those on unemployment benefits.
“Soon, legislation was passed requiring that all convicted felons be chipped, and after that, given that so many people were now under the scrutiny of the government and banks, the cry went out that everyone be chipped.
“Not long after that, the bulletin boards on the internet – that was the precursor to the current multimedia system – were filled with bogus cries of ‘It’s every citizen’s right to live in a secure and free society. Demand your chip today.’” [pp. 140-142]

The “people with mental problems” are Alzheimer’s patients ... and their caregivers. It seems to me that VeriChip is preying on the valid concerns—and especially the fears—that accompany caring for someone with Alzheimer’s. And I don’t think it’s an accident that genuine informed consent will be exceedingly hard to get from the individuals themselves, leaving the equally vulnerable family members to make decisions for their afflicted beloved. It isn’t just the galling end-run around proper methodology that toasts me; RFID implants carry serious safety risks, including potential problems with getting an MRI.

Apparently this test is still gearing up, as Caspian has scheduled a protest and prayer vigil for this Saturday, May 12. Y’all know I’m not big on prayer, but a large show of opposition to this kind of testing on individuals would be very good.

The USSA fedgov certainly doesn’t have a monopoly on legislative stupidity, but all the same it’s a bit surprising to see that a few states are apparently trying very hard to match its record. And they have arguably succeeded.

Some disturbing, but also slightly familiar news from Australia: Adverts that watch you watching them. From the story:

Electronic advertising boards could soon sense how you react to them and change their display to grab your attention, researchers say.

The developers are negotiating to trial the new advertising technology in shops.

"We have a concept called 'agile retail'," says Mike Wu, who is in charge of the project at government-funded National ICT Australia.

"The message will respond to the body of the customer."

The new system is called TABANAR (Targeted Advertising Based on Audience Natural Response) and is aimed at advertisers that want a competitive edge in a world already filled with advertising 'noise'.

It consists of an LCD screen and a small camera, both attached to a supermarket shelf stocked with competing brands.

The system senses someone approaching and plays an advert, say about a particular brand of shampoo on the shelf.

Then its camera 'watches' to see how that person responds in real time, with special software analysing the footage.

"The camera keeps monitoring the behaviour of this consumer to see if he or she is interested in this message," says Wu.

If someone's face is front-on to the display, the system assumes they are interested and continues advertising that brand.

But if their face is side-on, the display goes blank or changes brand until it attracts the person's attention.

Wasn’t it WalMart that teamed up with Gillette to watch customers browsing their razors? That didn’t work out so well ... but maybe the Australian marketers didn’t hear about that, or maybe they think Aussies don’t care much about privacy.

Here’s a hint, chaps: just because a scifi author or two mentions some idea, it doesn't mean it has to become reality. (Story spotted at The Boondocks.)

First, a belated Happy Birthday to both Cat and Mr. O.

About a week ago Sunni posted information on the Wisconsin tornados and that my family and I had gotten through them alright. We were very lucky. Not far from us many people lost their homes and one fellow lost his life. The damage was extreme.

Nature can be very destructive, but so can people. Survival percentages for the tornado were much better than they are for civilians in Iraq, or Hiroshima and Nagasaki sixty years ago. The comments for that blog entry are also interesting as they mention residents being tagged. That is not an exaggeration.


I had been out the evening of the tornado and on my way home had spoken to my son, who was at home, via cell phone (luckily the phone service never went out). I knew that he was alright, although the power was out in the house. He was reading (Dark Rivers of the Heart by Dean Koontz - a very good read) by candle light.

The quickest way home from the big city is via interstate, then a county road and then local roads. Our house was untouched as were all the houses in the subdivision in which we live. However, on the turn I usually take off the county road, deputies had a road block set up and were turning almost everyone away.

When I stopped my car, got out and spoke to them, I was told that all the homes west of the road block were destroyed. (I could see that was not true as there was a farm house in sight.) I told him that I had spoken with my son on my cell phone and at best his information was incomplete. (I bet they'd love to outlaw cell phones.) He still wouldn't let me through.

I backtracked to the prior turnoff and sought an alternate route. At the corner where I would have turned again had I not been stopped by the first road block, there was another police car and several people in plain clothes. After showing someone who claimed to be a police officer my drivers license which has my address on it, I was grudgingly allowed to proceed to my house.

If those who lived even closer to the worst of the damage, but still not actually in it, had been out of their houses, my guess is that they were probably prevented from returning home. I haven't yet had occasion to talk to a friend who lives right on the edge, but whose house was not severely damaged.

The last week has been a big hassle. I did not get a wristband as I was not planning on leaving the area often, nor did I see any need since I wasn't in the truly affected area. The deputies were not as obnoxious as they might have been. The story was that they were there to prevent possible lootings, gapers, etc. However, they changed the position of their check point more than once. Most of the week, they had it positioned so that everyone entering the subdivision in which I live (which was untouched by the tornado) had to show ID on entering (they encouraged the use of the wristband "so that it would be easier" to just show that).

As I said, I didn't get a wristband, but how high tech were they? I suspect not very. Which would mean they could be easily faked by someone truly interested in mischief.

The nanny state is closing in. It is interesting they choose a wristband for their "talisman," which has hospital overtones. It may have helped with the idea that the encroachments will be "for your best interests." I don't think we were the only residents who complained or didn't get a wristband. Perhaps an increasing percentage of people are getting tired of this sort of thing. I hope so.