Today You Tell Me Something (Y Manana Es Otra Cosa, Mentirosa)
Thursday, March 02, 2006
What a fun week. I worked 15+ hours on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. I was pretty tired, having already done 45 hours this week I was going to take today off and catch-up on some good ‘ole fashioned comic editing and publishing. My boss had other plans. You see, he wanted to “reward” me for working so hard so he booked me for a two day conference that he thought I’d enjoy.
It’s in Virginia; mind you, not some exotic island somewhere. That would be an actual reward.
So now, after averaging four hours sleep the past two nights, I need to be in McLean, Virginia at 7:45AM to register for a conference that’s going to go until 4PM. I have to give Josh notes on WORLD’S END, I need to give JJ notes on ROSE-COLORED CRASH, I need to follow-up with a couple of creators that want to contribute to my book – all this shit I need to do and instead I get to hang out with old people and eat a boxed lunch.
Fun!
I got to watch 24 last night, though. I’ve been making fun of them this season for doing no research into nerve gas but the shit they pulled this past Monday is unforgivable. All the nerve gas shit, I can let that slide, because they made up a gas. That’s fine; I really don’t know the rules of this “sentox” gas. It doesn’t behave like any other nerve gas but that’s cool. It’s magic gas.
But holy shit, when Jack Baur went into the contractor’s office building and didn’t need to have a badge or an escort – that’s just fucking nuts. Nuts, I tell you. And the people that were watching saw he did the thumb print scan and his picture came up and you were all saying, “Wow, that’s some high tech shit.”
Let me tell you about clearance.
When I applied for my clearance I had to fill out this form. It was about twenty pages long filled with wonderful questions about my psychiatric history, drug use, debt and criminal record. I lied my ass off. MY ASS OFF. I’m thinking to my self, “I’m 22 years-old. My job is paying me crazy money. There’s no way I’m fucking this up.”
Ever done drugs? Nope.
Ever been to a psychiatrist? Nope.
Are you currently in debt? Nope.
Hand that big ass form in and get an “interim secret” clearance. I get to go to meetings and work on secret shit. That lasts for about a year. During that year some agents visited my father and my neighbors, asked a bit about me, and I was granted a secret. With a form I lied my ass off with.
Couple of months later I needed a top secret. You’d think I’d need to update my form but I didn’t, all the information still pertains, nothing to update.
The day of my interview comes. Agent comes into the room, tells me how important it is that I’m honest – they won’t get me in trouble, they just need to know if there’s any information in my past that can be used for blackmail. He goes over the application I handed in almost two years ago.
Ever done drugs?
Yep.
You wrote no.
You know new job and all.
What kind of drugs?
Marijuana.
Anything else?
Shrooms.
Anything else?
No.
How many times have you done marijuana?
Couple.
Shrooms?
Once.
Have you done marijuana in the past six months?
Nope.
Ever been to a psychiatrist?
Yep.
How many times?
Three.
For what?
Well, the first time was after my cousin died. Having problem dealing. Second time I went because a friend was going and needed support. Third time I went because, I don’t know, relationship problems.
With who?
Girlfriend.
Abusive?
No, just kind of like, you know. [makes gesture with hands]
Ok. Are you currently in debt?
Yeah.
Is everything on this application a lie?
After about an hour of this grueling ordeal where I admitted to lying on everything on my application except my name the agent gets up, thanks me, and leaves.
A month later I get my top secret.
So, basically, clearance is a joke. This was all pre-September 11th and admittedly I’ve never worked on anything so secret that I’d have to report you if I accidentally told you about it but still, not the hardest thing to get.
But god-dammit it, if you ever get caught walking around a base or a contractor’s office without a badge on you are FUCKING DONE. Game over. Guys with walky-talkies will swoop on your ass in ten seconds and go to work on you with gloves. Right now, Jack Baur should have a lubed hand up his ass.
The nerve gas, fine, it breaks all laws of physics. Not wearing a badge at a company that makes nerve gas? I’m sorry, 24, but you went too far.
It’s in Virginia; mind you, not some exotic island somewhere. That would be an actual reward.
So now, after averaging four hours sleep the past two nights, I need to be in McLean, Virginia at 7:45AM to register for a conference that’s going to go until 4PM. I have to give Josh notes on WORLD’S END, I need to give JJ notes on ROSE-COLORED CRASH, I need to follow-up with a couple of creators that want to contribute to my book – all this shit I need to do and instead I get to hang out with old people and eat a boxed lunch.
Fun!
I got to watch 24 last night, though. I’ve been making fun of them this season for doing no research into nerve gas but the shit they pulled this past Monday is unforgivable. All the nerve gas shit, I can let that slide, because they made up a gas. That’s fine; I really don’t know the rules of this “sentox” gas. It doesn’t behave like any other nerve gas but that’s cool. It’s magic gas.
But holy shit, when Jack Baur went into the contractor’s office building and didn’t need to have a badge or an escort – that’s just fucking nuts. Nuts, I tell you. And the people that were watching saw he did the thumb print scan and his picture came up and you were all saying, “Wow, that’s some high tech shit.”
Let me tell you about clearance.
When I applied for my clearance I had to fill out this form. It was about twenty pages long filled with wonderful questions about my psychiatric history, drug use, debt and criminal record. I lied my ass off. MY ASS OFF. I’m thinking to my self, “I’m 22 years-old. My job is paying me crazy money. There’s no way I’m fucking this up.”
Ever done drugs? Nope.
Ever been to a psychiatrist? Nope.
Are you currently in debt? Nope.
Hand that big ass form in and get an “interim secret” clearance. I get to go to meetings and work on secret shit. That lasts for about a year. During that year some agents visited my father and my neighbors, asked a bit about me, and I was granted a secret. With a form I lied my ass off with.
Couple of months later I needed a top secret. You’d think I’d need to update my form but I didn’t, all the information still pertains, nothing to update.
The day of my interview comes. Agent comes into the room, tells me how important it is that I’m honest – they won’t get me in trouble, they just need to know if there’s any information in my past that can be used for blackmail. He goes over the application I handed in almost two years ago.
Ever done drugs?
Yep.
You wrote no.
You know new job and all.
What kind of drugs?
Marijuana.
Anything else?
Shrooms.
Anything else?
No.
How many times have you done marijuana?
Couple.
Shrooms?
Once.
Have you done marijuana in the past six months?
Nope.
Ever been to a psychiatrist?
Yep.
How many times?
Three.
For what?
Well, the first time was after my cousin died. Having problem dealing. Second time I went because a friend was going and needed support. Third time I went because, I don’t know, relationship problems.
With who?
Girlfriend.
Abusive?
No, just kind of like, you know. [makes gesture with hands]
Ok. Are you currently in debt?
Yeah.
Is everything on this application a lie?
After about an hour of this grueling ordeal where I admitted to lying on everything on my application except my name the agent gets up, thanks me, and leaves.
A month later I get my top secret.
So, basically, clearance is a joke. This was all pre-September 11th and admittedly I’ve never worked on anything so secret that I’d have to report you if I accidentally told you about it but still, not the hardest thing to get.
But god-dammit it, if you ever get caught walking around a base or a contractor’s office without a badge on you are FUCKING DONE. Game over. Guys with walky-talkies will swoop on your ass in ten seconds and go to work on you with gloves. Right now, Jack Baur should have a lubed hand up his ass.
The nerve gas, fine, it breaks all laws of physics. Not wearing a badge at a company that makes nerve gas? I’m sorry, 24, but you went too far.
Labels: mitc
posted by Jason at
1:06 AM
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jason rodriguez is an eisner and harvey-nominated editor and writer. email him. or become his digital BFF below:
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