Our Perfect Big Brother: Mr. Donald Trump

Orwell’s 1984 wasn’t fantastic fiction, he merely projected  the outcome: things had to turn out this way.

The seeds of our present disorder were apparent and Orwell took things to probable conclusions;  an automated urban culture in which privacy is impossible.  Hitler, Stalin, Franco; not even the notorious East German Stazi  had the ability to hack every private conversation, as our national police force does. A national police force wasn’t imagined by those who drafted the U.S. constitution, nor could they foresee technology that allows a national police force to watch us literally without oversight, of course, for our own good.

Orwell saw the rise of this kind of police power because it is predictable to protect the economic hegemony  given  our constitutional  protections, when the population grows so large that it can only be managed by algorithms. It seems astounding that a society formed to promote civil liberty now employs the world’s most comprehensive surveillance of its citizens and visitors.

But here we are and isn’t Mr. Trump our perfect Big Brother.

Uberman: Sirens of Ensenada

West Mission Boulevard, Saturday 11:22 PM. The three sirens in little black dresses slide into the back seat;


—Yeah, Michael?

Chestnut hair, dark eyes move too fast; a medium blond

—I’m Janice

A thin morena between them. Scent of woman fills the car.


—Yes, familiar voice. Who? When? Anne  Sarah.

—Where are we going, ladies ? (What’ll we do when we get there?)


Chelsea,  demanding eyes in mirror.

Cabin temp rises. A/C fans swell

Janice leans between the seats, whispers in my ear.

—To the border, she says, then turn right, 100 kilometers.

—Don’t worry, Chelsea says, we pay the toll.

—Ubers can’t cross over there, TJ taxis don’t like it.

Recitativo secco in Spanish like fireworks behind my head, conjuring spirits. Below the GPS periodic intones,

—Turn left one hundred miles, then right.

—Ensenada, they say that way. south…

—Turn left, then right.