Hold on just a minute. Or, hold on for about, oh, another seven or eight hours, if you have that much time to kill. That being roughly the amount of time I've been on hold with BellSouth while trying to cancel all of the services I have with them now that it has been made public that the company has probably disclosed all of my phone records to the Liar and his staff of Evil Information Collectors. And are my phone calls ever dangerous! Dubya and Dick, I think by possibly collecting my phone records and intercepting my international telephone calls you probably really have prevented another "attack on American soil," a phrase I am so sick of hearing I could puke. We didn't get attacked on soil. Planes flew into some buildings. Get it straight. Well, I guess the one in Pennsylvania did crash into the soil but that wasn't the target. Now back to this issue of collecting phone data, which is probably illegal, but there's no chance in hell that anyone involved will get into any kind of trouble because these people -- the Dick, the Bush, the Rummy -- are all above the law. If they weren't, they'd all be in prison for torture, perjury, wiretapping, tax evasion, and who knows what else. But I can't worry about it anymore, except for the fact that they might be reading my e-mails and yours and listening in on our personal phone calls, thanks to BellSouth, AT&T, and Verizon. This is the first time since I got my cell phone service that I haven't wanted to throw my phone into the river because it changes its message-retrieving method every other day on its own, and I have to spend seven or eight hours on the phone trying to get the problem straightened out. Now, to retrieve messages, I have to call my own number from another phone, wait until just the right second during the automated message, and then punch in a code. At least that's the way it was as of yesterday. Today I'll probably have to click my heels, spin my head around in a circle, say the name "Shelley Winters" four times, and then punch it in as a text message. I wonder if the White House domestic spying agents have to jump through this many hoops to collect my phone data. What I'd like to do is listen in on some of THEIR conversations. I imagine them going something like this: "Dick, this is George. I know we got a lotta crap goin' on today with all these Mex-cans out there. And all the guys who gave me so much money when you -- I mean, I -- was running for president are kind of pissed off. But you know, Dick, this immigration problem ... Well, is this about immigrants or is this about migrants? Well, I think I have a solution, because a problem, you know, it needs a solution to the problem. Laura taught me that the other night. Lemme tell you what we ought to do to come up with a, you know, a solution to the problem. Let's let 'em stay inside the Amurican border long enough to give 'em some kind of citizenship and then draft 'em and send 'em off to war for a few years. Ain't that a zippy idea? Yep, the twins came up with that one last night! And they weren't even drunk! They didn't come straight to me with the idea, but I heard them talking about it on the phone with this new contraption that lets me listen in on their calls. You got one of them yet, Dick? Man, it's bad-ass! I can even use it while I'm fishin'. You ought to getchoo one." On second thought, never mind. I'd rather stay on hold.