It happened just after dusk. I was halfway through reheating last night’s chili when the knock came — firm, rhythmic, and suspiciously polite. I figured it was U.P.S. with my Bourbon order. I opened the door to find two masked men, dressed like extras from a dystopian reboot of The Blues Brothers, holding a ribboned box and wearing jackets labeled “I.C.E.”
“Candygram for Earlthepearl137,” one of them said, eyes wide with bureaucratic innocence.
I blinked. I wasn’t surprised — I’d just published a blog post titled The End of Free Speech: A Love Letter to Monitored Comedy. I knew the drill. Say something morally clear, challenge selective outrage, and suddenly you’re on the compliance radar. Satire, when done right, makes some people nervous.
In my latest post, I questioned the double standards of speech policing — how moral clarity gets labeled “aggressive,” while actual harm gets a pass if it’s wrapped in patriotism or profit. I used examples from club signage, media pivots, and the way certain phrases get flagged not for content, but for who’s saying them.
Apparently, that was enough to trigger a “courtesy check.”
The I.C.E. agents didn’t arrest me, though. They didn’t even enter. They just stood there, box in hand, waiting for me to acknowledge the delivery. It was performance art — a compliance ritual dressed as concern. And like all good satire, it left me wondering: who’s really afraid of free speech?
I reached for the candygram, and the masked man winked. Not a friendly wink. The kind that says, We know where you live.
And then I woke up.
I wonder if it was a dream or a premonition.
“No Kings Day” – October 18th. Be there and bring a friend.
Peace & Love, and all of the above,
Earl
earlthepearl137 