Am I schizophrenic if I think American agencies monitor social medias to hunt for people supporting Palestine?
The police state has always been bipartisan
Submitted 2 days ago by cm0002@lemmy.world to [deleted]
https://lemmy.ml/pictrs/image/667705c4-5f09-43e5-be31-c5053cbfd59d.jpeg
Comments
tired_n_bored@lemmy.world 2 days ago
noxypaws@pawb.social 2 days ago
That seems like an entirely reasonable suspicion to me.
RisingSwell@lemmy.dbzer0.com 2 days ago
I think the proper word would be paranoid, but also not a huge concern unless you are doing something about it or trying to apply for a job at a US agency.
tired_n_bored@lemmy.world 1 day ago
Yes I’m not scared or something, but I’m just sorry for the people who actually support a cause with their heart and for this reason they get expelled from the country, lose their job etc
YarHarSuperstar@lemmy.world 2 days ago
No they absolutely do.
web.archive.org/…/ice-immigration-social-media-su…
Not necessarily the same targets but they clearly have both the ability and motive to do such surveillance and many agencies have been implicated in massive spying programs and other surveillance and information operations, so it’s reasonable to think that some of them are doing what you say as well.
Saleh@feddit.org 2 days ago
Always have been. And discrediting people as mentally ill is part of the strategy, as can been seen with the example of Ernest Hemmingway, whose FBI surveillance likely contributed to his eventual suicide
jacobin.com/…/ernest-hemingway-ken-burns-docuseri…
Does not mean to be paranoid, but you should always be watchful.
SoftestSapphic@lemmy.world 2 days ago
Those are Israeli agencies
WorldsDumbestMan@lemmy.today 2 days ago
They have an army of trolls for that. There’s legitimately a troll farm that is just there to…troll you.
Remember_the_tooth@lemmy.world 1 day ago
Undercover in Bloom: A Love Story (With Prison Time)
FBI Agent Irene Calloway had dedicated her career to taking down criminals, but nothing in her training had prepared her for the absurdity of posing as a florist. Yet here she was, the proud owner of Flowers By Irene, a totally-legit, definitely-not-a-front flower shop.
Her shop was a cover. The real operation happened every night when she parked her painfully obvious surveillance van across the street from her target: Dan Marino—not the football player, but a suspected money launderer.
The van, a white monstrosity covered in antennas and a cartoonishly large satellite dish, was supposed to blend in. It did not. The words Flowers By Irene were painted in elegant cursive on the side, as if that would somehow make it less suspicious.
For weeks, Irene monitored Dan’s every move. She had enough evidence to put him away for years. His shell companies, his offshore accounts, his suspiciously high pizza delivery bills. It was all there.
Then, one fateful morning, Dan walked into her shop.
“Hey,” he said, flashing a devastatingly illegal smile. “I need flowers.”
Irene nearly dropped a potted fern.
“Flowers?” she repeated, as if the concept was foreign to her.
Dan nodded. “Yeah. My apartment feels… empty. Thought some flowers might liven it up.”
Irene narrowed her eyes. Was this a trick? Did he suspect her?
But no. He just stood there, looking obnoxiously handsome, waiting for a floral recommendation.
“Uh… lilies?” she offered.
Dan grinned. “I’ll take ‘em.”
That should have been the end of it. A one-time visit.
But the next day, he came back.
“Roses today,” he said. “For myself.”
“A little romantic, don’t you think?” she teased.
Dan smirked. “Maybe I’m just hoping my florist finds it charming.”
Irene was doomed.
Each day, he returned. Each night, she sat in her van, watching him commit federal crimes.
By day, he was charming, funny, and surprisingly passionate about floral arrangements. By night, he was deep in the criminal underworld. She had everything she needed to arrest him.
And yet.
She was falling. Hard.
One evening, as she sat in her van listening to his latest shady phone call, her partner, Agent Lewis, side-eyed her.
“You like him,” Lewis accused.
“I do not,” Irene said, lying.
“You’re literally twirling your hair right now.”
Irene immediately stopped twirling her hair.
Lewis smirked. “You do know we’re arresting him soon, right?”
Her stomach dropped.
Right. The arrest.
She tried to tell herself she didn’t care. That she was a professional. That she wasn’t emotionally compromised.
But when the SWAT team stormed Dan’s apartment at dawn, Irene’s heart ached.
She stood in the background as they cuffed him, watching as realization dawned in his eyes.
“You,” he said, looking straight at her.
Irene swallowed hard. “Dan… I—”
His smirk returned. “I knew it. The van was way too suspicious.”
She groaned. “I told them to use a smaller satellite dish!”
“Yeah, that might’ve helped.” He looked down at his cuffs, then back at her. “So… what happens now?”
“Now?” Irene sighed. “You go to prison.”
Dan grinned. “And then?”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s it, Dan. You go to prison. End of story.”
Dan winked. “We’ll see.”
Two Years Later…
Irene really hadn’t expected to still be thinking about him.
She had gone on dates. Normal, law-abiding dates. But no one made her laugh like Dan did.
Then, one day, a letter arrived at her shop.
“You still owe me flowers. – Dan”
Against all logic, she wrote back.
For months, they exchanged letters. Flirty, ridiculous, completely inappropriate letters.
Then, the day he got out of prison, he walked into her shop like nothing had happened.
“Miss me?” he asked, leaning on the counter.
Irene wanted to be mad. She really did. But instead, she sighed.
“Are you at least going to try being a law-abiding citizen?”
Dan grinned. “For you? Maybe.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“Then how about this—I’m done with crime. Clean slate. No more shady businesses, no more offshore accounts. Just me… and my favorite FBI agent.”
Irene definitely did not melt at that.
“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But if you do any more crimes—”
Dan held up his hands. “No crimes. Scout’s honor.”
She crossed her arms. “You were never a scout.”
“Okay, but I’m serious. No more trouble. Just flowers. And, uh… maybe one small thing?”
She narrowed her eyes. “What?”
He pulled a ring from his pocket.
Irene forgot how to breathe.
“Marry me?” Dan said, smirking.
She stared at him. “Dan. You literally just got out of prison.”
“Exactly. Fresh start.”
She groaned. “Oh my God, I’m going to regret this.”
Dan wiggled the ring. “Sooo… yes?”
She exhaled. “Fine.”
Dan grinned. “Told you I’d win you over.”
She rolled her eyes. “Shut up and kiss me, ex-con.”
He did.
cm0002@lemmy.world 1 day ago
Babe wake up, new copypasta just dropped lmao
Remember_the_tooth@lemmy.world 1 day ago
I’m honored. Thank you.
ininewcrow@lemmy.ca 2 days ago
I have a friend of mine who labels his home wifi devices like …
OPP_SURVEIILLANCE_VAN_001
OPP_SURVEIILLANCE_VAN_002
OPP_SURVEIILLANCE_VAN_003
OPP in our province stands for Ontario Provincial Police
wreckedcarzz@lemmy.world 2 days ago
OPP, OPP OPP, OPP; OPPAGANGNAMSTYLE
ininewcrow@lemmy.ca 2 days ago
I prefer the OG
O.P.P.