Polishing The Apple
Good morning, y’all. We’re experiencing just gorgeous weather here in the mountains. I noticed that the dogwoods and cherry trees are starting to bud on the drive into Blairsville. I guess the pear trees can’t be far behind. The forsythia and the jonquils are already in full bloom. Spring is in the air, along with the pollen from a thousand varieties of trees and bushes.
It’s scary to think that the green stuff accumulating on all surfaces is also getting breathed into our lungs. Although I’m reasonably sure that the conditions in our bodies would not be conducive for growing pine trees, apparently the conditions in our lungs are fertile grounds for peas. Reading that story made remember about the time my brother got a bean stuck up his nose from a bean gun. While it was causing him a great deal of discomfort, he feared the embarrassment of telling everyone what he had done even more. I guess everyone has items locked up somewhere that they’d rather not share with everyone.
The reason we were headed to Blairsville was to visit the reverend Helen Handbasket. The reverend is still recovering from her big fall this past weekend. I think the physical issues are just about mended. I hear her psyche is not even close to recovering. The reverend is absolutely mortified that she lay on the floor of the church with her robes completely over her head for a good thirty seconds. I think the fact that she was clad in a matching set of red Victoria Secret underwear speaks more highly of her than if she had been in some mismatched Fruit of the Looms with holes in them. Now that’s just me, though. It seems like the reverend’s Mama taught her like mine did, “always wear good underwear, you never know when you might be in an accident”.
There is nothing that can be done about the TV audience that witnessed the reverend’s over-exposure during the live telecast. I think the reverend has to let go of her concerns about the TV audience, and maybe she has. I hear the reverend is deeply concerned about the number of folks with cell phones that might have taken advantage of the moment. Even though the sanctuary is supposed to be a “cell phone free zone”, we know everybody has got one at the ready. The reverend is worried that someone might post her embarrassment to the internet, and that it would live there forever. An internet file forever linked to her name and outstripping (pardon the pun) all of her other accomplishments. I see her dilemma. I do not see her solution.
First off, how do we know if anyone took pictures? Would it be up to the Elders of the church to ask any picture takers to come forward? If someone did take pictures, would they not be the property of person that took them? How do you get the picture takers to reveal themselves and then to voluntarily part with their property for the purpose of alieving somebody’s discomfort? Do you wait until the next service and then confiscate all phones as the congregation enters the chapel? Would you then have the reclaim process require the parishoner to show all of their photos to redeem their phone? Sounds a little draconian, doesn’t it?
I can see real parallels here in the current battle between Apple and the Federal government. The Feds want Apple to create a “backdoor” in all of their phones and give the Feds the key. Apple has taken the position that what is stored on your phone is yours, just like it was stored in a closet at your house. The Feds need a specific warrant to look in your closet, and Apple believes that the files stored on your phone should be treated the same way. I agree. If I’ve done something that warrants a warrant, then the Feds should be able to see whatever I’m up to. Other than that, it’s my business. Allowing for a universal key into cell phones is just madness in my opinion, and could backfire on the Feds. What if all of Justice Scalia’s phone messages, pictures, etc. were able to be hacked using the universal key? Might that prove more damaging to the American empire than the contents of a suspected terrorist?
Hang in there Apple, the people are behind you.