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To: decimon

Just like putting a radio collar on a wild animal. Next we’ll dart them and take samples to check for dope and STDs. Good job for Scott Ritter, tracking 16 year old girls.

Text messages urging healthy behavior?

The instructress had called them to attention again. ’And now let’s see
which of us can touch our toes!’ she said enthusiastically. ’Right over from the
hips, please, comrades. One-two! One-two! ...’
Winston loathed this exercise, which sent shooting pains all the way from
his heels to his buttocks and often ended by bringing on another coughing fit.
The half-pleasant quality went out of his meditations. The past, he reflected,
had not merely been altered, it had been actually destroyed. For how could
you establish even the most obvious fact when there existed no record outside
your own memory? He tried to remember in what year he had first heard
mention of Big Brother. He thought it must have been at some time in the
sixties, but it was impossible to be certain. In the Party histories, of course,
Big Brother figured as the leader and guardian of the Revolution since its very
earliest days. His exploits had been gradually pushed backwards in time until already they extended into the fabulous world of the forties and the thirties,
when the capitalists in their strange cylindrical hats still rode through the streets
of London in great gleaming motor-cars or horse carriages with glass sides.
There was no knowing how much of this legend was true and how much invented.
Winston could not even remember at what date the Party itself had come into
existence. He did not believe he had ever heard the word Ingsoc before 1960,
but it was possible that in its Oldspeak form-’English Socialism’, that is to say
— it had been current earlier. Everything melted into mist. Sometimes, indeed,
you could put your finger on a definite lie. It was not true, for example, as was
claimed in the Party history books, that the Party had invented aeroplanes.
He remembered aeroplanes since his earliest childhood. But you could prove
nothing. There was never any evidence. Just once in his whole life he had held
in his hands unmistakable documentary proof of the falsification of an historical
fact. And on that occasion
’Smith!’ screamed the shrewish voice from the telescreen. ’6079 Smith W.!
Yes, you! Bend lower, please! You can do better than that. You’re not trying.
Lower, please! That’s better, comrade. Now stand at ease, the whole squad,
and watch me.’

5 posted on 03/24/2008 7:23:47 AM PDT by DBrow
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To: DBrow

Exactly right.

9 posted on 03/24/2008 7:33:10 AM PDT by Hegemony Cricket (IX-XI -- numquam didici)
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