The Closet Gay and the C.I.A.

I finally saw Artis the Spoonman this weekend at the Northwest Folklife Festival. Later on Matty and his girlfriend Angie hosted a cookout. The weather wasn't the greatest, but the rain held off for the most part. Angie was talking about a new guy they hired at her firm who came from M.I.T., and it reminded me of something that happened in high school which makes sense to write about here...

Back when I was in high school, we used to play hoops down at Magnolia Field. There was a wide age range on the court, anywhere from eight to twenty eight, which made games interesting to say the least. When it was all over, we used to head around the corner to Carl's house, where we would listen to his Pink Floyd albums while his wife made lemonade for everyone and warned us about the dangers of playing Dungeons & Dragons. They were nice people.

Carl had a degree in mathematics from M.I.T., but he was bored with work so he applied for a job as a field agent with the C.I.A. We didn't find out any of this until afterwards, and probably wouldn't have found out had he been hired, but as it turns out, he wasn't. One of the requirements for fields agents is passing a psychological evaluation... it's not as though they do any sort of experiments or anything, just a regular psych test. So they gave Carl the test, and then summarily rejected him, because the test showed that he was a closet homosexual.

"But I'm not gay!" he argued. And that was precisely the problem, they replied. The fact that he wouldn't admit it made him a liability in the field. This sort of thing could be used against him. "But I'm married," he said, "I have a daughter. And isn't it discrimination anyway to not hire someone because they're gay?" Well, yes, it is, but they weren't rejecting him on the grounds that he was gay. They had plenty of gay field agents, good ones too. But they weren't closeted. If he were to come out of the closet and embrace this lifestyle, the C.I.A. would have no objections to hiring him, as he was otherwise fully qualified. But the profile said he was gay, and until he admitted it, being a field agent was, in fact, an impossibility. "But I'm not gay!"

Precisely the problem.

So he'd been rejected... or had he? One of the girls at Magnolia who had a crush on him didn't believe that he'd been rejected. It was just his cover, she said. So Carl had some fun with it. Every once in a while he would talk into his watch, or take off his shoe and hold it up to his ear like he was receiving a communique, and she'd go ballistic, trying to figure out what it was he was doing. We never believed it at the time, but looking back on it, who knows... he could have been working for the C.I.A.

It's been six years, though, and the government's never issued me a shoe-communicator, so I'm pretty sure that part was crap.

Fresca!

Check it out! New Fresca design! And they're adding two new flavors.

"Fresca resonates with people who have a sophisticated taste and are unwilling to compromise on flavor or calories," said Alison Lewis of Coca-Cola. Amen to that. And when I'm done here, I want her job: "Vice President, Sprite and Flavors, Coca-Cola North America"

This is the sort of thing that makes my day, especially since the M's just got swept by Baltimore.

A Friendly Warning

Ever needed to do something embarrassing, something that polite society frowns upon, like pick your nose, looked around to make sure no one was looking, and then did it? Well, I'm here to tell you: don't. Or, if you need to, make sure you're under a bridge or inside a car or something. Seriously.

I'm going through some surveillance video from one of our satellites, and there's a guy scratching his rear end for a good minute and a half... and the only reason he stops is because someone exits the building he's standing outside of. And this is not an isolated occurrence. This feed is detailed.

That's why I get such a kick out of how excited everyone gets over Google Maps. "I can see my house!" Well, not only can I see your house and the bald spot on your head as you sit on the back porch drinking lemonade and reading the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, but I can also read the headlines and tell that the lemonade is pink.

Hypothetically speaking, of course.

Codenames

I've been in a bit of a funk lately since my girl and I broke it off, so I apologize to my zero-comment-leaving Internet friends for not posting anything.

We're working on something pretty big right now, and today we got a codename for it. I'm not allowed to tell you what it is, at least until it's over, of course, but let me assure you that it's not Operation Wolf, and it's not Operation Grand Slam.

Every time I am put on a project, I try to get it named Operation Wolf. I used to love that game, strafing across an open field while dude after dude jumped out and shot things at you, gunning them down with that plastic Uzi. And I figured, why not have some fun with the codenames, right? There's only one real rule when it comes to codenames... they can't have anything to do with what they stand for. Like a mission to Antarctica would never be called "Operation Deep Freeze", because the codename could potentially give something away. So, to me, Operation Wolf is a great name... unless the project has something to do with wolves, which it never does.

Nonetheless, I am always shot down. So today, we are discussing codenames, and before I was can even get it out, Jennings cuts me off and says, "We're not calling it Operation Wolf." So I snap right back, "Actually, I was going to suggest Operation Grand Slam."

Now we've been on a sports kick lately with our codenames, mostly football, but with some variety. There was Crunchtime, Endzone, Hattrick, Zone Blitz, Empty Net, and a bunch of others. Grand Slam fits right in. And Jennings likes it. "Operation Grand Slam. Sounds good. Anyone have any objection to it?" And no one says anything for, like, ten seconds, and Jennings is about to move on, but then Nancy chimes in, "Wait, isn't that the name they use in Goldfinger?" Dammit, Nancy, shut up! Jennings thinks about it for a second, then looks at me and realizes that's exactly where I got it from, nixes it, and we spend another five minutes coming up with a decent name, during which time I am not allowed to speak.

Is a codename really that important? Should we run a check to make sure that no book, TV show, or movie ever uses a codename that we want to use? I'm just trying to have a little fun, and someone always ends up ruining it.

At Least The Mariners Won

Friday night I had tickets for the Mariners-Sox game, and Karen agreed to go with me, so we could "sort some things out". Before I continue, I should mention that a Mariners game is the perfect setting for a date. It's guaranteed to be at least three hours long, during which you can either delve deep into conversation, or, if things are going poorly, completely ignore your date in favor of the game and not appear rude. I recommend having dinner beforehand, and if things go well, drinks afterward. That is today's advice. And now, on with the show.

There's been a serious rift in my relationship with Karen. It started when I was stuck in Kazakhstan last year. Her birthday came and went, and naturally, she heard nothing from me. Then our one year anniversary came and went, and she heard nothing from me. Then about a month later I reappeared and wanted to pick things up like nothing had happened, and that sort of thing doesn't fly, especially when the reasons you give are specious at best.

The party line was that I was running a tour of Cambodia. When I didn't come home at the appointed time, the cover story was that André got sick and I had taken over a hiking expedition to the Himilayas, and this is what they fed to Karen when she got concerned and called. So now I got back from Kazakhstan three months later, and the first accusation is that work is more important than she is.

Fact is... work is more important than she is, but not the work that she thinks I do. So it's a no-win situation. I tried what I could to make it up to her... we spent a week in the Caribbean and I thought things were patched up, but then I went away again to "Thailand", and that set her off again.

So we spent a good deal of the Mariners game airing out our issues (well, mostly her issues, followed by my lies), and the rest of the game not talking at all. Then we had a nice awkward car ride back that lasted about an hour, because of the asinine traffic rerouting they do around Safeco after games.

I'm not really comfortable talking about this, so I apologize if it sounds rambling, but the long and the short of it is that not only did she decide that we're no longer "an item", but she has no interest in being friends or ever actually seeing me again. Personally, I think that's a bit childish, but sometimes that's the way things are.

Sometimes the heart remains a child.

Just Because You're Paranoid...

Russia Accuses Foreign Agencies of Spying

I don't know how long that link will last, but here's the gist of it: Nikolai Patrushev, head of the FSB, has accused -- get this -- the Peace Corps and three other charitable organizations of spying. "Our opponents are steadily and persistently trying to weaken Russian influence in the Commonwealth of Independent States and the international arena as a whole. The latest events in Georgia, Ukraine and Kyrgyzstan unambiguously confirm this."

I've heard worse. I mean, Kim Il Jong makes this guy look sane and focused. Nikolai, I'm not making any claims as to whether the Peace Corps or anyone else is spying on you or not... but let's just say if you found out some organizations, it's because those are the ones they wanted you to find.

It's really sad how Russian intelligence has become. I wasn't around for its heyday, but I've heard the stories. Sure we were a step ahead, but not always, and never two steps. There was some legitimate competition. A real cat-and-mouse game, if you will. Now they're just pathetic, pointing fingers at fuzz-bearded hippie 18-year-olds and getting their intel from CNN.

Th' Vee-Eye-Pee

After a day and a half of hemming and hawing and firing countless rounds at the test range, I have my new gun. It's an STI VIP 9mm. A lot of folks around these parts are opting for the Executive, so I tried it out, but I like the feel of the VIP better, and it's also a bit smaller, which makes it nice for concealment. Semi-automatic, naturally, double-stack. The grip is awesome; it feels great in my hand. The trigger is nice and crisp, probably less than four pounds, but not a hair trigger by any means. Weighs like a pound and a half maybe. Now a lot of people complain that the 9mm doesn't have much stopping power, but you put one of those in between someone's eyes and he's not going anywhere. Plus, 9mm ammo is the easiest to get in a pinch.

While we're on the subject, there's a scene in "Ronin" where the guy is asking DeNiro about what gun he likes to use, and DeNiro says something like "Doesn't matter. It's just a tool in the toolbox." I guess that's supposed to show how badass he is, like he'll kill you whatever way suits him... but what a bunch of crap. Other people's guns are weird. Sure, you use them when you have to, but you never get used to the grip or the creep, you're always worried about them jamming up on you at the wrong time, and good luck if you need to aim from long range, because you have no idea where that shot is going. It just never feels comfortable.

So I'm comfortable with this jammie, but I still have to make it my own. And I plan to do just that this week, because it sure beats desk work.

Debrief

We found out what happened to Jennings yesterday. He called a staff meeting to tell us all that last week he felt tightness in his chest, so he went to the emergency room. They checked him out and couldn't find anything wrong with him, but they scheduled a stress test for him, and he took remainder of the week off. The tests were negative, but they still suggested that he "take it easy".

Which he did for about seven seconds.

Immediately after the meeting he called MacDougal in and reamed the guy for a solid half hour. Word is that he was in charge of satellite communications for Operation Crunchtime, and either failed to set up encryption or implemented some scheme that might as well have been ROT13. Anyway, MacDougal got railed pretty hard, so when it came my turn, Jennings basically just said "Don't do it again," and let me go.

One of these days, MacDougal's going to get his walking papers. This morning I get to pick out a new gun.

Sky Miles?

I woke up with an e-mail in my Inbox, which is a good thing, because if I had to address the Mariners again, I might have just snapped (Bases loaded walks? What is this... Little League?). This e-mail comes from "Will"...

[edit] "Do you get frequent flier miles for all the travelling? If so, what do you plan on spending them on? How do the new TSA restrictions affect you?" [edit]

The short answers are "yes, nothing, and they don't". There are times when I fly commercial aircraft, but unless I'm traveling domestically, I'm flying under an alias. There are a number of aliases I fly under who belong to a frequent flier program... after all, it would not make sense for a world-traveler businessman to not want free Delta Sky Miles. The department handles all of the details, so I never see a statement regarding how many I would have earned. I wouldn't use the miles anyway. All my travel is paid for -- even the rare vacations I take, so the miles are somewhat useless.

The TSA restrictions don't really affect me. Passengers were never allowed to carry things like handguns on a plane anyway, but are still allowed to check them as baggage. Same thing goes with hand-to-hand weapons, like swords and knives. All of that stuff needs to be checked and documented appropriately. You asked specifically about lighters, so I'll mention that lighters are not allowed aboard commercial flights, although it's not a problem for me, because I don't carry one.

Sometimes I can't fly commercial -- time may be of the essence and I can't wait on an airline's schedule, or I've got some things that airlines don't like because they have a tendency to make a rather large "BOOM". In those cases, I catch a ride with the military. Obviously, TSA restrictions don't apply, but the military can be just as much of a hassle, especially when you arrive at Incirlik expecting them to be expecting you, and instead you're detained for two days because MacDougal didn't notify the requisite people, or some half-wit hard-ass in Dushanbe thinks you're an Al-Qaeda operative who needs to be "broken". I'm not even going to get into how many times the military has personally issued me a mea culpa, but let's just say that if I had a nickel for every time it happened, I'd have a lot of nickels.

I'm going for a jog around the country club. Then I'll grab some lunch. Jennings comes back to work on Monday. Karen hasn't called me back.

House Of What?

Jennings has been sick all last week, to the point where he had to go to the hospital for all sorts of tests. No one's really sure what he's got. In the meantime, I gave my report to the Deputy Director, who wasn't nearly as harsh as Jennings would have been. I'll still have to meet with him when he gets back, but in the meantime it's back to paperwork and information gathering. I've got stacks and stacks of pictures and audio to go through, and like seven thousand e-mails.

I was telling Matt how much I was looking forward to Episode III, and how I thought I'd be around to see it on opening day, and he mentioned "House Of Wax". I had never heard of it, but he knows that Elisha Cuthbert is my favorite Canadian (except that Bridget girl at the CSIS, but she was married). She was the best part of "24"... well, except for the unintentional comedy of the rest of the show. You have no idea how funny that show is for people in our profession. Don't even get me started on "Alias".

During a spare minute at lunch, I downloaded the trailer. So now someone is going to have to explain this to me. I mean, I realize that I was in Kazakhstan for four months last year, but when did Paris Hilton become an actress? I mean, she had that stupid reality show with Lionel Richie's daughter, but other than that, there was just the sex tape, right? Now she's in movies? Was MTV responsible for this in some way? Anyway, after watching the trailer, it's not on my list of must-see movies. Episode III, on the other hand... I am so there.

Hammer To Fall

There was no debriefing Friday, because Director Jennings was out of the office, so my reaming is set for today. But it did give me chance to enjoy most of the weekend. I love being back in America. Maybe it's the small things, like the smell of fresh food at the supermarket, or the Mariners in HDTV, or boneless buffalo wings. Mostly, it's just home.

I finally stocked up on groceries early Saturday, after cleaning rotten food out of the fridge. After all this time, you'd think I'd have figured out that stuff goes bad, especially when you're gone for almost three weeks. The key is to only buy items that fall into one of two categories: things that you are going to eat right away, and things that don't spoil. But I see that carton of milk, and I just have to buy it. "It won't go bad this time," I say. Poor deluded fool.

I called up Karen, to see if she wanted to get together, but that ship may have sailed. She's... well... high maintenance, and I don't offer much of a support contract being out of the country, so I can't say I blame her. I don't feel like getting into that right now. I called up Matt instead, and we watched the Mariners lose in extra innings. Why Guardado wasn't pitching the tenth, I don't know. There's a reason his nickname is Everyday Eddie.

Saturday night we went to Pioneer Square to see some band Matt had heard about from a friend of his. The music was good, but I wasn't really in the mood for the scene. I work in a world where women are second-class citizens; hooker waitresses and mobster girlfriends with black eyes for looking at someone the wrong way. And I get back here and the first conversation I have with a girl is comprised entirely of lies.

"Yup, that's my name. Yes, I'm a tour operator. It's very exciting. Mostly Southeast Asia but all of Asia, really. The Cambodia tour is one of my favorites. You'd love it. Stop by the office, they'll give you a brochure."

I guess the last part isn't a lie... they will give you a brochure. Just don't expect to book a trip with us anytime soon.