

SUBSCRIBE TO OUR FREE NEWSLETTER
Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.
5
#000000
#FFFFFF
To donate by check, phone, or other method, see our More Ways to Give page.


Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.
I was walking down the street, humming a tune, when suddenly I found my path blocked by two men in dark suits, narrow ties and snap-brim hats.
One of them took his wallet out of his breast pocket and held it in front of my eyes, so close I couldn't focus on it.
"Homeland Security," he said. "Would you mind leaning against that wall over there sir?" "Pardon me?" I responded. I didn't have any idea what he was talking about.
I was walking down the street, humming a tune, when suddenly I found my path blocked by two men in dark suits, narrow ties and snap-brim hats.
One of them took his wallet out of his breast pocket and held it in front of my eyes, so close I couldn't focus on it.
"Homeland Security," he said. "Would you mind leaning against that wall over there sir?" "Pardon me?" I responded. I didn't have any idea what he was talking about.
That's when the other man grabbed me by the arm, threw me against the wall and snarled: "Lean he said." "Don't shoot," I said. "My wallet's in my back pocket. Take it. Just don't shoot." "Spread your legs," the mean one said, then patted me down. "He's clean," he said to the other one.
"Look here, there must be some mistake. I am a semi-retired news...." "There's no mistake. We heard you. You were humming the 'Star Spangled Banner.'" "I don't know what I was humming, I wasn't paying attention. What's the difference?" "It is illegal to hum the National Anthem in public."
"Since when?" "Since the Great Decider, our President, decided it was."
"Why?"
"Because how do we know you're not humming in Spanish? How do we know you're not signaling your wetback friends? It's called conspiracy to incite patriotism among illegal aliens and you get five-to-ten for it with no possibility of parole."
"This is absurd. I demand to see a lawyer. I have a right to see a lawyer." "You guys make me sick, always whining about your rights. Traitors don't have rights. Arrest him."
And with that the mean one twisted my arms behind my back and put a pair of plastic cuffs on them. A black sedan pulled to the curb and they forced me into the back seat and tied a blindfold around my eyes.
The next thing I knew I was in a bleak room, still blindfolded, standing on a box with my arms out.
"You'll save us a lot of time if you confess," a voice said. "You might be able to plead down to a charge of thinking about singing the National Anthem in Spanish, which would be a misdemeanor." "How can I prove to you I don't sing the National Anthem in Spanish? I sing it in English." "Oh yeah? I'll bet you don't even know the words." "I do too: 'Oh say can you see...blah, blah, blah...rockets red glare...blah...bombs of the free, home of the brave...play ball.' How's that?" "Pathetic. Fidel Castro could do better than that."
"Come on. Nobody knows the words to the National Anthem, not all of them. It sounds like it's been translated from Bulgarian."
"Mo, he doesn't like the National Anthem." "You're digging yourself a pretty big hole, Mister. Do you speak Spanish?" "Not really."
"What's that mean?" "I know a few useful phrases. You know 'Don't forget to dust under the bed.' 'Do not trim the azaleas.' That sort of thing." "He speaks Spanish. Wire him up." I could feel them attaching electrodes to my arms and legs.
"There's been a terrible mistake made here. I am a semi-retired...Ow!"
"OK mister, let's get to the nitty gritty. Do you now or have you ever belonged to a humming society?" "What kind of society?" "A humming society, one that meets in secret and hums patriotic songs in foreign tongues." "No, of course not. I've never even...Ow! Stop doing that."
"This one's going to be a tough nut to crack, Larry. He sounds like a Fifth Amendment hummer to me." "The tougher they are, the louder the crack, Mo. Let's turn up the juice all the way. We'll see how tough he really is." The last thing I remember was that voice, saying: "Hasta la vista, Baby." Then everything went black.
That's when I woke up. It was a dream. Thank Goodness I live in the United States of America and something like that could never happen here.
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It's never been this bad out there. And it's never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed, the threats we face are intensifying. We need your support now more than ever. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Will you donate now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
I was walking down the street, humming a tune, when suddenly I found my path blocked by two men in dark suits, narrow ties and snap-brim hats.
One of them took his wallet out of his breast pocket and held it in front of my eyes, so close I couldn't focus on it.
"Homeland Security," he said. "Would you mind leaning against that wall over there sir?" "Pardon me?" I responded. I didn't have any idea what he was talking about.
That's when the other man grabbed me by the arm, threw me against the wall and snarled: "Lean he said." "Don't shoot," I said. "My wallet's in my back pocket. Take it. Just don't shoot." "Spread your legs," the mean one said, then patted me down. "He's clean," he said to the other one.
"Look here, there must be some mistake. I am a semi-retired news...." "There's no mistake. We heard you. You were humming the 'Star Spangled Banner.'" "I don't know what I was humming, I wasn't paying attention. What's the difference?" "It is illegal to hum the National Anthem in public."
"Since when?" "Since the Great Decider, our President, decided it was."
"Why?"
"Because how do we know you're not humming in Spanish? How do we know you're not signaling your wetback friends? It's called conspiracy to incite patriotism among illegal aliens and you get five-to-ten for it with no possibility of parole."
"This is absurd. I demand to see a lawyer. I have a right to see a lawyer." "You guys make me sick, always whining about your rights. Traitors don't have rights. Arrest him."
And with that the mean one twisted my arms behind my back and put a pair of plastic cuffs on them. A black sedan pulled to the curb and they forced me into the back seat and tied a blindfold around my eyes.
The next thing I knew I was in a bleak room, still blindfolded, standing on a box with my arms out.
"You'll save us a lot of time if you confess," a voice said. "You might be able to plead down to a charge of thinking about singing the National Anthem in Spanish, which would be a misdemeanor." "How can I prove to you I don't sing the National Anthem in Spanish? I sing it in English." "Oh yeah? I'll bet you don't even know the words." "I do too: 'Oh say can you see...blah, blah, blah...rockets red glare...blah...bombs of the free, home of the brave...play ball.' How's that?" "Pathetic. Fidel Castro could do better than that."
"Come on. Nobody knows the words to the National Anthem, not all of them. It sounds like it's been translated from Bulgarian."
"Mo, he doesn't like the National Anthem." "You're digging yourself a pretty big hole, Mister. Do you speak Spanish?" "Not really."
"What's that mean?" "I know a few useful phrases. You know 'Don't forget to dust under the bed.' 'Do not trim the azaleas.' That sort of thing." "He speaks Spanish. Wire him up." I could feel them attaching electrodes to my arms and legs.
"There's been a terrible mistake made here. I am a semi-retired...Ow!"
"OK mister, let's get to the nitty gritty. Do you now or have you ever belonged to a humming society?" "What kind of society?" "A humming society, one that meets in secret and hums patriotic songs in foreign tongues." "No, of course not. I've never even...Ow! Stop doing that."
"This one's going to be a tough nut to crack, Larry. He sounds like a Fifth Amendment hummer to me." "The tougher they are, the louder the crack, Mo. Let's turn up the juice all the way. We'll see how tough he really is." The last thing I remember was that voice, saying: "Hasta la vista, Baby." Then everything went black.
That's when I woke up. It was a dream. Thank Goodness I live in the United States of America and something like that could never happen here.
I was walking down the street, humming a tune, when suddenly I found my path blocked by two men in dark suits, narrow ties and snap-brim hats.
One of them took his wallet out of his breast pocket and held it in front of my eyes, so close I couldn't focus on it.
"Homeland Security," he said. "Would you mind leaning against that wall over there sir?" "Pardon me?" I responded. I didn't have any idea what he was talking about.
That's when the other man grabbed me by the arm, threw me against the wall and snarled: "Lean he said." "Don't shoot," I said. "My wallet's in my back pocket. Take it. Just don't shoot." "Spread your legs," the mean one said, then patted me down. "He's clean," he said to the other one.
"Look here, there must be some mistake. I am a semi-retired news...." "There's no mistake. We heard you. You were humming the 'Star Spangled Banner.'" "I don't know what I was humming, I wasn't paying attention. What's the difference?" "It is illegal to hum the National Anthem in public."
"Since when?" "Since the Great Decider, our President, decided it was."
"Why?"
"Because how do we know you're not humming in Spanish? How do we know you're not signaling your wetback friends? It's called conspiracy to incite patriotism among illegal aliens and you get five-to-ten for it with no possibility of parole."
"This is absurd. I demand to see a lawyer. I have a right to see a lawyer." "You guys make me sick, always whining about your rights. Traitors don't have rights. Arrest him."
And with that the mean one twisted my arms behind my back and put a pair of plastic cuffs on them. A black sedan pulled to the curb and they forced me into the back seat and tied a blindfold around my eyes.
The next thing I knew I was in a bleak room, still blindfolded, standing on a box with my arms out.
"You'll save us a lot of time if you confess," a voice said. "You might be able to plead down to a charge of thinking about singing the National Anthem in Spanish, which would be a misdemeanor." "How can I prove to you I don't sing the National Anthem in Spanish? I sing it in English." "Oh yeah? I'll bet you don't even know the words." "I do too: 'Oh say can you see...blah, blah, blah...rockets red glare...blah...bombs of the free, home of the brave...play ball.' How's that?" "Pathetic. Fidel Castro could do better than that."
"Come on. Nobody knows the words to the National Anthem, not all of them. It sounds like it's been translated from Bulgarian."
"Mo, he doesn't like the National Anthem." "You're digging yourself a pretty big hole, Mister. Do you speak Spanish?" "Not really."
"What's that mean?" "I know a few useful phrases. You know 'Don't forget to dust under the bed.' 'Do not trim the azaleas.' That sort of thing." "He speaks Spanish. Wire him up." I could feel them attaching electrodes to my arms and legs.
"There's been a terrible mistake made here. I am a semi-retired...Ow!"
"OK mister, let's get to the nitty gritty. Do you now or have you ever belonged to a humming society?" "What kind of society?" "A humming society, one that meets in secret and hums patriotic songs in foreign tongues." "No, of course not. I've never even...Ow! Stop doing that."
"This one's going to be a tough nut to crack, Larry. He sounds like a Fifth Amendment hummer to me." "The tougher they are, the louder the crack, Mo. Let's turn up the juice all the way. We'll see how tough he really is." The last thing I remember was that voice, saying: "Hasta la vista, Baby." Then everything went black.
That's when I woke up. It was a dream. Thank Goodness I live in the United States of America and something like that could never happen here.