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Tuesday, 7 August 2007

Traylor Park, New Jersey (IP) - Seven year old Yani Finootch was walking home from school one day last month when suddenly he spotted something shiny reflecting sunlight up through the blades of grass. He had found a tiny pocket knife laying on the ground. The knife had a blade that was only a half inch long and it also had a tiny pair of scissors, a screwdriver, file, a pair of tiny tweezers, and a hole punching accessory. He did not own too many things and he rarely ever got to eat lunch.

He knew instantly that this was his one true prize possession but he had to always keep it a secret because the possession of such an item while on school grounds could lead to serious consequences. Seven year olds are not known for their ability to keep secrets but Yani so loved his only begotten knife that he was extremely motivated to keep its secret to himself.

The school Yani attended, like all other schools now-a-days resembled a maximum security prison. Long gone were the days of one room wooden school houses with an open yard and a swing set and monkey bars full of childish joy and laughter. Adults had long ago put an end to such scenes. The school was in the daily habit of showing its children tear jerking documentaries in the morning that showed foreign children in need and after the showings of these films the teary eyed students were asked if they would donate their lunch money to these causes.

Little Yani reached into his pocket, like he did on a daily basis, but this time as he pulled out his dollar bill for the donation, his shiny little pocket knife fell out onto the floor for all to see. All the children had from their earliest days been properly indoctrinated, not unlike the brown shirts of yesteryear's Germans, and he was immediately reported to the school's proper authorities.

Within seconds sirens started their high pitched wailing at an ear piercing 120 decibels and iron curtains were lowered electronically so as to lock down the school.

In town things were no different and all of the shops, restaurants, factories, homes, hospitals, malls, airports, government offices, and municipal utility plants went into immediate lock down and emergency procedures were enacted as sirens everywhere wailed away non stop. Women screamed and men wept uncontrollably.

Olive helicopters with every type of protuberance imaginable descended upon the school yard's helipad and the SWAT team emerged wearing their black bullet proof ensembles and regalia. Snipers aimed their laser sighted weapons at the door from which Yani was soon led out of the otherwise impenetrable confines of the "school house". His pants were wet and he trembled like a leaf, sobbing and begging to have his little knife returned to him.

Anti-terror laws now were routinely applied to everyday infractions of the law no matter how minor they might seem. Yani's attorneys begged for mercy before his sentencing. The judge was stearn and to the point. He said that the law was the law and had to be obeyed to the letter in all cases. He had reviewed the case and had come to the conclusion that all procedures and points of due process had been strictly followed and that meant that even guilt and innocence were of no consequence. Yani was found guilty as charged.

Yani was taken to the childrens sector of the Guantanamo reeducation facility where he would have to remain until the day he died.

Back in town a 117 year old gentleman had closely followed little Yani's case from day one. He was the only person still around who could remember the good-ole-days when a person could get away with making a small or even a big mistake and continue to live their life in a normal fashion. Those were the days before everybody and everything was tracked by computer and by GPS and the days before everything had been outlawed by feel good legislation. Those were the days of forgiveness and live and let live. The old man pulled out his trusty old 38 caliber Smith and Wesson, held it to his temple and pulled the trigger.

Back in town everything had returned to normal. Everybody felt safe and secure. The government would take care of everything.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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