Pemex is the Mexican government-owned petroleum company that is a monopoly. They drill for oil, refine it, and then sell it in their own gas stations. When I drove to Mexico in July, Pemex sold gasoline for the same price as it did in December of 2007, the last time I drove down there. Meanwhile, gas in the U.S. practically doubled. This is about the only case that I can think of in which a government monopoly actually benefited citizens. As soon as I crossed the border, I saved money on gas. If gas in Mexico practically doubled as in the U.S., the Mexican economy would suffer greatly. It has already undergone a significant downturn due to unemployment, the housing crisis, and rising prices in the U.S., thereby causing Mexicans working in the U.S. to send less money home to Mexico. So, I, personally benefited from the fixed prices of gasoline in Mexico by paying less at the pump.

Last weekend, I saw the movie Tropic Thunder with my sons despite the protests against the R-word that was used in the movie. The R-word, for those of you living in a vacuum, is retard. People with mental disabilities do not want the word to come back into use. And I can understand that. I’m not apologizing for the movie, which satirizes Hollywood and its movies, but the movie doesn’t really make fun of people with mental disabilities. It ridicules actors and their over-sized egos when using the R-word.

For as long as I can remember, I have heard the word used as an insult whenever someone did something that’s less than intelligent. When I was growing up in the 1960s, everyone called everyone a retard just out of habit. If someone pushed you: “Hey! Watch it, you retard!” If someone tripped and fell: “Walk much, retard?” Worst of all was if you did something stupid and your name was Rick: “That’s the women’s washroom, Ricky Retardo!” Of course, being called a retard wasn’t as bad as being called a racial or ethnic slur. We were taught: “Sticks and stone may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” But, if someone insults you, you’re still hurt by those words. Lately, the R-word was on course to be replaced by “DUH!” But the R-word is gaining ground on Duh!

So, I’m driving around using the GPS function of my new iPhone and I’m amazed at how it’s tracking my movements quite accurately. Somebody or something is paying attention to what I’m doing. But I shouldn’t be surprised because I’ve often thought about the many ways that we leave electronic traces of our humble existence. Every time I make a credit card purchase, my presence is documented very precisely. I’m photographed every time I withdraw money from an ATM. In Chicago, we have cameras on most corners downtown and in many stores. We also have those police cameras with flashing blue light in high traffic areas. We also have traffic enforcement cameras that take your picture if you run a red light. Every time you make a cell phone call, your location is detected by the phone tower that transmits your call. All incoming and outgoing telephone calls on your landline are listed on a database for billing purposes. If you pay for the toll roads using a digital transponder, your location, time, and date are recorded. And they also take a picture of your vehicle. When I was driving to Mexico, while still in Texas, a camera took a picture of my car. When I returned to the U.S., the border patrol officer knew that I was using my passport for the first time. All this information may be used against you.

I often read in the newspapers about cases where prosecutors subpoena records from phone companies, the Illinois State Tollway Authority, banks, police cameras, and credit card companies to use them as evidence in court. Now with the internet, every keystroke is recorded. Just because you deleted the e-mail to your mistress asking her if she took her blue dress to the cleaners doesn’t mean the e-mail was deleted into oblivion. When you delete files on your computer, they’re still there. And it seems like everyone can access them except you. And they’re also archived on several servers that back everything up in case of a disaster. I wouldn’t be surprised if many e-mails are floating aimlessly through cyberspace, or even outer space in the form of radio or electromagnetic signals.

Then there’s the government spying on private citizens for the sake of the safety of the American public. Which reminds me. Once, my neighbor was arrested for allegedly having millions of dollars of drugs and cash, but no guns. This absolutely floored me. One morning as I was getting ready to go to school, I noticed plainclothes police officers conducted a raid next door. When I saw the news that night, DEA agents announced this major narcotics bust involving my neighbor who seemed like a nice enough man. We didn’t talk much, but we always said hello to each other. My son played with his son at their house. The DEA agents said that they found money lying out in the open, all over the house. If that were true, I’m sure my son would have mentioned it to me. Another thing that bothered me about the case was the fact that they didn’t recover any firearms. Everyone knows that the tools of the trade for drug dealers are firearms. I’m sure my son would have mentioned seeing guns if there had been any. Something was very wrong with everything in that case. Then to top everything off, I noticed that I’m being followed by DEA agents in unmarked cars for about a week afterward. Having 20-20 hindsight, I realized that they had been following me for about a week before the raid. If they had framed my neighbor, what was to stop them from framing me, too?

I’m not exactly sure how I became a teacher, but believe me, I never planned on speaking before large crowds because they scare me. In fact, I become self-conscious and nervous when I realize someone is even remotely paying attention to me. I begin to stutter and lose my train of thought.

So why do I teach college Spanish? Well, I’ll tell you. I don’t know! Ever since grade school, I wanted to have a Ph.D. Well, a Ph.D. in literature sort of locks you into teaching. I mean what else can you do with a Ph.D.? I mean, besides start your own website where you prominently display your full name followed by your pretentious degree. So somehow I ended up teaching college Spanish.

As if that weren’t  quite enough, this year, I became part of the university bureaucracy. As a teacher, I always savored the fact that I could complain about institutional policies. In other words, I liked sticking it to the man. This semester, however, I am the man. What to do? Well, I hate having anyone tell me what to do, but I especially hate telling others what to do. I could do without giving orders to anyone about anything.

Hopefully, my administrative duties will only last this academic year. I think I would prefer just teaching to shuffling paper. But I will do my job to the best of my abilities. I will grumble under my breath about my position, though.