Posted by Munee Cashilini

So by now you’ve probably heard of the mighty Patriot Act II and it’s inexplicable redefinition of just about everyone who handles money as a “financial institution”

Now Matt and Jason have been whining about the first Patriot Act since day one, but a high roller such as myself has insufficient time for such Chicken Little alarmism. In fact, damn do those guys whine a lot. And I don’t know this new girl, but listen honey, I don’t want to read about your issues with the rest room. In fact, how on earth did I get lumped together with these hot-tubbers?

But anyway, back to John Ashcroft and his burning desire to be dictator. I’m pretty sure that my baccarat dealer is now technically a financial institution. With the amount of scratch that is in play when I sit down, that dude touches the equivalent of Zaire‘s GDP in just a few hours.

I’ve yet to read the whole bill, but I have heard that there are some other reclassifications.

My valet parking attendant is now classified as a NASCAR driver.
The guy who paints my condo is now classified as an artist. (He claims validation)
My fish tank cleaner is now classified as Jacques Cousteau.
The security guards who carry my cash-filled attaché are now classified as Delta Force.
The private detective who follows my ex-wife is now classified as an FBI agent.
And my Asian masseuse is now classified as a prostitute, doctor.

Three cheers for puritanical totalitarianism!

I look forward to Patriot Act III – The Clone Wars in early 2005.

I’m off to Lake Tahoe to do some skiing. But I feel the need to warn you:
Caesar’s Tahoe is nothing but a Super 8 with slot machines and marble statues of naked men.