I think the whole “spy” thing is pretty intriguing.  Interesting.  I wonder if there are as many spies as there used to be.

Today, for instance, is the birthday of Russian Spy Rudolf Abel.  At least, that is the name he adopted at the time of his arrest by FBI agents in 1957.

His real name is Vilyam “Willie” Genrikhovich Fisher.  But he went by a whole bunch of different names… and codenames…. like Emil Robert Goldfus,  Mark Collins, Martin Collins, Robert Callan… to site a few.

But old Rudy was born in the UK to Russian parents.  He moved back to Russia…. did the whole military thing… and ended up with the KGB.  That is when he came to the U.S. and was a part of a spy ring.  Yar.

He was convicted on conditions surrounding the Hollow Nickel Case (mostly for the Conspiracy to transmit defense information to the Soviet Union).

He got released early.  The U.S. traded him for the release of a U-2 pilot named Gary Powers.

Why all the fuss from me?  Oh… I just wonder how much of that stuff goes on anymore.  I bet it happens more than we might imagine.

In the era of the Cold War… people used to worry about the “spies” in their midst.  That cracks me up.  Sort of.  But really…. Like there would be a lot to spy about in most common U.S. households of the 1950s?

Folgers or Maxwell House?  Just how many times do they bowl per week?  How do they make their meatloaf?  Yep.  All things the Soviets were clamoring to know, I’m sure.

But these days… there is a whole new breed of spies.  I truly think we need to be aware of them.

They watch what we do online.  They track what we buy… .and where we shop.  They know what we watch on TV… and the music we listen to… what we eat.  Cameras in every building,  street corner, and in the palm of every hand.

The Spy Game has morphed from the days of 007 to the pages of Orwell’s 1984. Big Bro.

I try not to let it bother me too much.  I’m not sure there is anything we can do about …  not any time soon.  Nope.

So I will just keep doing the Hokey Pokey in my driveway when ever I feel like it.  And the Chicken Dance.   I won’t let the spies stop me from flapping my wings.

A girl’s gotta’ fly… a girl’s gotta’ dance.  After all.

“When the music changes, so does the dance” – African Proverb