Let’s hear it for the companies who are spying on us:
The only Alexa I’d ever let into my house is a wonderful lady friend thus named. The electronic snooper and spy? Well, I guess somebody could put one into my house at some point, but the recordings would be kinda boring, because I’d be dead.
Bloody hell, it’s bad enough that the bastard government alphabet agencies might want to climb up my ass on a 24/7 basis, simply because I once wrote that I wanted to beat Ted “Swimmer” Kennedy to death with a lead pipe; and that ever since the fat prick died, I’ve wanted to pour a bottle of Glenmorangie 10-year-old over his grave (after first passing the stuff through my kidneys).
Now the post-adolescent techno-weenies want their turn at my asshole, just because I buy books and deodorant from their poxy company? Fuck ’em.