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How can you tell that you’re living in a police state? What criteria would you apply to make that determination?

Is it when your government starts scanning your electronic communications for keywords and tracking who you’re calling on your phone?

You seem surprisingly OK with that, America.

How do you feel about your government barring entry to artists, or journalists?

Last year, nine foreign journalists trying to get into the US were “repeatedly questioned, fingerprinted, searched, handcuffed, and held overnight in cells.” Then they were sent home. All because they wanted to cover a video game conference. (Society of Professional Journalists)

Recently, the guitarist of a silly glam rock group from France called Fancy was denied a work visa for a concert tour in the US because his name, Mohammed Yamani, was kinda like that of Abou Mohammed Al Yamani, a former Bin Laden minion. Former, as in he’s dead. (thanks to Vincent for this tidbit)

Also not long ago, they turned Sebastian Horley away. His crime was writing a naughty biography called Dandy in the Underworld in which he talks about his wild party days. Sex. Drugs. The usual. After grilling him for eight hours at the border, US Customs decided not to let him in the country to attend a book signing for reasons of “moral turpitude.” (via BoingBoing)

Moral turpitude? What do they think we are, infants? How many Americans my age didn’t gobble up Bukowski’s dissolute genius and wash it down with Tom Wolfe’s Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test as teenagers? To name just a couple. A lot of us did a bit of merry prankstering ourselves and are probably the better for it.

Maybe the question I ask should be “When do you start to care that you’re living in a police state?”