A few days ago, I was roused in the middle of the night by loud rapping at my front door. I shuffled groggily from my bed and opened the door to find a mustached, burly man staring me down. He flashed his badge, a U.S. Customs and Border Protection crest embossed into gleaming metal.

CUSTOMS AGENT: Miz Girardin, I am here to take you into custody pursuant to Title IV of the USA PATRIOT Act of October 26th, 2001, of which you are in direct violation.

ME: Title IV! Border Security! Is it something I wrote? I knew I shouldn’t have said that thing about McCarthy…

CUSTOMS AGENT: Our intelligence services have gathered information on your un-American activities. You have broken the three sacred clauses of Americanness. You are unmarried, correct?