Before 2001 I didn’t even know the meaning of the word redacted, and now here I am using it in a sentence. While at the local Borders & Noble, I spotted a copy of Valerie Plame’s book Fair Game: My Life as * **** ** ******** ** *** ***** *****. I had to look up the name of the book on Amazon, but thanks to some embittered prick in Washington, I could recall her name with little effort. What was that book called? Oh darn it, I forgot the name, but it’s by former CIA operative Valerie Plame.
When plugging her book, Plame would point out that large swaths of her autobiography were redacted by the CIA, because they involved classified information. I thought chapter eight on Iraq’s WMDs would make for some extremely light reading, and guess what? Like the WMDs in question, much of Valerie’s chapter couldn’t be found either:
What caught my eye, though, was the one orphan towards the bottom of the left page, standing alone in its own paragraph. What was this one brief word that Valerie wanted to emphasize so badly? My guess:
So consider my completely unscientific stab in the dark. It was probably that or penis.
And thanks to all the mentions of the CIA, Valerie Plame, redacting things, Iraq, WMD, and so forth, I would like to say hello to the CIA operative reading my blog. Now stop screwing around on the internet and get back to work transmitting radio messages into my fillings.