This is a picture I did not take
of a train conductor who approached me and asked, "are
you a terrorist?" and then explained (while keeping his
distance) that a few passengers were scared because they'd seen me taking
a photograph of the train, and that he "had to check and see" what I was
up to. It probably didn't help that my Rolleiflex looks exactly like a
dirty bomb and that my Boston Red Sox hat clearly shows that I am
depraved enough to waste my time rigging said Rolleiflex with depleted
uranium and an explosive disperser.
While this may not be a picture of a train conductor who was just doing
his job, or of the scared Americans who believe that a man on a train
platform with an antique camera and a cable release is a terrorist, it
is a picture of the sad, desperate, hate-filled state of my
country's paranoia, which, with each televisable missive from that little
house on the prarie of Pennsylvania Avenue, is turning its citizens into
fear-based automatons that only respond to what's on cable, (as long as
it's a station owned by Rupert Murdoch).
All hail the message when the message keeps you incurious, complacent, and
scared straight out of your little, stupefied minds.