Okay, I think this is it: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Wearing-the-Cape/337250462961380
I have finally gotten with the program and created a Facebook page for the Wearing the Cape series! (Click on above picture for the link.) I will be posting updates and art there, as well as related links. Feel free to post comments there, and even heckle me now and again: from now until I finish the draft of Small Town Heroes, I will be posting my daily word-count progress. This should be interesting.
UPDATE: PLEASE STAND BY.
For some reason nobody can access my page but me yet. Working on it.
Addendum Note: Since writing the previous post I have been following the internet-shadow of this incident. Mullins (the plagiarist) has deleted her Facebook account and her pages have been removed from Amazon and Goodreads. In short, she is not getting away with this. A part of me feels sorry for her; she may be a desperate person, with real need for money, who thought she could make a quick buck using a “forgotten” work (published 20 years ago and no longer owned by a publishing house). I would have more sympathy if she had bitten the bullet and fessed up when discovered, rather than resorting to vicious attacks. Carpet-bombing the author’s own Amazon reviews with 1-star reviews is a nasty tactic that makes an author like me–dependent on Amazon ratings for my sales–shudder and want bloody retribution. Alerted, Amazon deleted the attack-reviews–but if you want to do something else for the author, she is offering her plagiarized book, A Bid For Love free on Amazon now; if it’s your kind of thing (it’s categorized as Christian Romance), download it, read it, and giver her an honest review. As for Mullins, I hope she will make amends, be able to learn from this, and move on–perhaps even write again, this time for herself (she must have some talent, or she couldn’t have carried off even a plagiarism).
I love the internet. Not only does it make my life possible (an indie-author could not have supported himself with his writing even ten years ago), but it leads me into the most interesting adventures and places. This is the story of one of them.
Last year on my way north I stopped in Dragon’s Keep in Provo, UT. Dragon’s keep is probably the best game store in the entire state, maybe the best game store between the Rocky Mountains and the Pacific Coast. Browsing the shelves, a family game caught my eye: Tokaido. Its pristine white box and Japanese theme grabbed my attention, especially since I knew what the Tokaido was: the coastal road that stretched from Kyoto to Edo. With its shrines, hot springs, inns and beautiful natural sites, the two-week journey became a popular tourism route during the peaceful 17th century. It was popular with all classes of Japanese, especially the rising middle class of the period, and it was said that you could meet anyone and see anything upon the Tokaido.
So I picked it up and found it to be a truly fun family game, made beautiful by the art of Naïade (you can see more of his wonderful art by clicking on the picture).
In it you take the role of a traveler along the road. You might be an elderly priest, an artist, a courtier or geisha, or a merchant, messenger, orphan girl… Take your pick, each represented delightfully by Naïade’s art and each having a slightly different advantage. You and the other players travel from Kyoto to Edo, seeing the sights, picking up souvenirs, eating the great food, visiting the shrines and hot springs, and having interesting encounters along the road. At the end, he who had the best time wins (you keep track with points). It is a serenely competitive game, an easy way to spend an hour with family and friends.
It almost goes without saying that Tokaido has been a great success in the tabletop-games community, and has acquired a lot of fans. It had one expansion earlier this year, Crossroads, and released extra promotional cards at different events. So FunForge, the game’s producers, decided to go bigger and launched a Kickstarter campaign.
I heard about it when a brother-in-law emailed me the link; he knew I loved the game and one of the Kickstarter pledge levels gave you all the expansion stuff that came on top of the original game. He thought I might like to get the “extras.”
He had no idea what he’d done.
FunForge was looking for at least $40,000 to do a Collector’s Edition: basic game plus the expansion, the promotional cards, nicer pieces, a new set of alternate-art cards for the 16 traveler characters, and cute little miniatures for each traveler. That’s all they wanted to do, but have you ever seen Disney’s The Sorcerer’s Apprentice? Well…
The trouble started almost immediately. I think they got concussed by all the money being thrown at them.
There is a thing in Kickstarter called Stretch Goals; it’s a way of encouraging pledgers to spread the word and encourage more pledgers. If a Stretch Goal is met, another piece of goodness is added to the basic product or some other cool gift is attached. In Tokaido’s case, it is likely that they’d had no idea how much money was going to come in early, and they scrambled to find cool Stretch Goals to keep the momentum going. Ad-libbing in the middle of a Kickstarter campaign is not a good idea, but their intentions were good. I was watching on the comments page, and for awhile there it looked like it would be a five-car pileup with no survivors.
Here’s what happened, at least from this bystander’s perspective.
One of the first new Stretch Goals they made was that they would paint those 16 cute traveler minies. All Samurai Pledges would get the painted ones. That was good.
Then they decided to create 16 Alternate Art traveler cards (more Naïade is always good), with 16 new minies to go with them. Each traveler character would have two art cards and two minies, both painted. Even better.
Then some genius, scrambling for another set of Stretch Goals just for Samurai Pledges and above, decided it would be a cool idea to also get an unpainted set of the minies (some people like to paint their own miniatures, after all). This sounded great, but after a few days went by someone at FunForge realized that the logistics of packing 64 minies with each game would be a nightmare. So they canceled that Stretch Goal.
During the time the Duplicate Set of minies was an available Stretch Goal, the number of pledgers had just about doubled, and they wanted those extra minies.
FunForge is a French company, but the majority of Tokaido fans are Americans (bigger market), and I’m pretty sure that the US nearly invaded France–at least if the anguished screams on the comments page were anything to go by.
To stave off the imminent invasion, FunForge scrambled to find a way to make it up to the Samurai Pledgers. In the interests of world peace, several of us offered constructive suggestions. I and a few others suggested that instead of just alternate-art cards for the travelers, Bauza (the game’s designer) should create 16 brand new travelers with new abilities to go with the new art.
FunForge grasped this suggestion desperately (who knows, they might have thought of it first while hiding in their safe-house), and Bauza also stood before the mob and promised a new game expansion exclusively to the Samurai Pledges. The day was saved, and the Kickstarter campaign thundered on to its glorious conclusion: $668,000 pledged to a game that needed only $40,000 to fund. Bigger board, nicer cards, new expansions, 35 travelers with beautifully painted minies! There were fireworks.
And here’s where my personal moment of madness and extravagance happened.
You see, there was one pledge level higher than Samurai: Shogun. Samurai Pledge ($115) got you the whole glorious set: Shogun Pledge ($950) also got your face on one of the alternate-art travelers, with a nice framed print signed by Naïade and Bauza.
Now, I like my face, but $950 to get it cropped onto a character that isn’t you? I think not. Then the Stretch Goals changed, from alternate-art to New and Original Travelers, and the Shogun Pledgers would get to describe their traveler characters… Fortunately for my bank balance, by that time 16 pledgers had already pledged Shogun; the temptation was no longer available.
So there I was, on the last day of the Kickstarter campaign, watching the money-storm (they raised nearly $200,000 on the last day) and reading the comments page, when suddenly a cry rang out! Someone had dropped his Shogun pledge! Immediate speculation began, one guy started crying because his girlfriend would kill him in his sleep if he bumped his pledge to Shogun and they couldn’t pay the rent, and…
Yup. I did it. Grabbed the last Shogun Pledge slot. I didn’t need that new computer, anyway.
Which just goes to show you what interesting adventures can befall you on Tokaido Road. The wandering samurai poet at the top of this post? Me, mini-me soon to come. He/I will be traveling Tokaido road in more than 5,000 boxed sets of the Tokaido Collector’s Edition around the world–many more if FunForge decides to release the CE or the Shogun Pack travelers and other expansion for regular distribution once they finish the Kickstarter production-run (and I certainly would if I was them). I’ll probably also get chewed on by dogs and babies, but I try not to think about that.
So who knows? Perhaps someday soon you guys will be in a game store and see a big white box with cool Japanese-themed art, make an impulse-buy, and meet me on Tokaido Road.
(Disclaimer: should anyone from FunForge read this and take exception to the way I have portrayed events, I can only say that this is how the Kickstarter campaign looked to me. On the decision-making end, it might have looked very, very different. Kudos for pulling it together and making it all come out right in the end.)
Three guesses who this is, once again the latest character piece from the amazing Jamal Campbell. Just as a side-note, you have to love Jamal’s name; could it possibly be more American (Canadian)? Jamal means “handsome” in the original Arabic, and there is no more Scottish name than Campbell–look up the famous history of Clan Campbell sometime. Jamal, did you know you are entitled to wear the Campbell tartan?
So, on to the purpose of today’s post: News.
Small Town Heroes is going well if slower than I’d like (I have actually taken the step of ordering a Microsoft Surface Tablet so I can take it to the library every day in an attempt to cut out distractions and Get It Done). It is turning out to be the hardest storyline I’ve attempted yet, and I hope my readers will like the result enough to forgive the delays.
Wearing the Cape: the Roleplaying Game is still on track, so everyone interested in taking part in the second round of playtesting keep their eyes here; I estimate 30 days between Small Town Heroes’ publication date and the launch of Round 2.
In the meantime, I thought it might be a good idea to use this post as a Q & A; there is, of course, no such thing as stupid questions…no, there really is. But I promise not to mock anybody. More seriously, if anybody has any questions about the books, the game, favorite characters, etc., post them here. I’ll even provide background details not in the books yet so long as they aren’t spoilers. I will move all questions into the body of the post with my answers.
Questions/Answers (Thank you, everybody.)
Q1, will there be more of our Oz princess?
Q2, Will you run the rpg on kickstarter? (I’d love to get it and all your paper books as a reward tier)
A2, I’m seriously considering it; it’s the only way to produce a good hard-backed rulebook. Otherwise, it will be available as a PDF (probably $19.99) and paperback rulebook (probably $45-$50).
Q3, Will there be any other major Female leads coming in to the story? (My sister wants to know, a big Wonder Woman fan)
A3, between Astra, Artemis, Shell/Shelly, and Ozma, I think the ladies are well-represented. Of course more characters of both sexes are introduced all the time.
Just a quick note: The Good Fight, the first superhero anthology by the Pen and Cape Society (a co-op of self-publishing superhero authors, including yours truly), has just become available on Amazon.com for the low price of $0 dollars.
Omega Night was my contribution to the anthology (unfortunately too wrapped up in Small Town Heroes to write a new one), but if you love superhero stories–and why else would you be here–I’m sure you’ll get a kick out of these. As always, your mileage may vary, but there is some very fun work being done these days by writers who are in it for the love of the capes.
You can find it here. If you pick it up, give it a review!
So, first apologies. I am way behind on Small Town Heroes, for which I am very, very sorry. All I can say is a lot of things have been happening, but I have also let myself get distracted, and finally STH has undergone more serious plot-changes than any book so far. How serious? A title change is a good clue…
That said, I hope to still have the book out late this summer. It looks like 2014 is a one-book year.
Now, as to the cool art above, that is one sample of the work of an amazing artist I have had the good fortune to contract for the character art in Wearing the Cape: the Roleplaying Game. You can check out his stuff here and buy a print of this piece here.
Jamal has been a very lucky find, and I eagerly await seeing his vision of every one of the Sentinels.
More on the WtC: the RPG front, playtesting has proceeded apace and once I finish up Small Town Heroes I will be more than ready to do the second rulebook draft and solicit a new round of playtesters. I would like for some of these to be people who have never played a RPG before! To put it simply, a rulebook can often be understandable to a RPG veteran but make no sense to a newby who has never made up a character sheet or rolled dice with deadly intent. I want WtC: the RPG to be as destructively playtested as possible before it goes to printing.
And now by way of apology, here is chapter two; feel free to comment.
Small Town Heroes
Everybody dreams, unless something has happened to leave them with damaged parietal lobes. Some people never remember their dreams, and others are natural lucid dreamers, oneironauts. I’m a vivid dreamer with high recall, which sometimes creates more awkwardness than I need. But once upon a time, no matter how weird or embarrassingly blushworthy my dream life occasionally got, I could at least say it was All In My Head. Not anymore.
I hadn’t experienced a Kitsune dream since the end of the Villains Inc. mess, but last night’s had the same undreamlike quality, as crystal-clear as any waking memory. That made it Important, but the fox had snuck into my dreams just before morning light and I had stuff to do. I found a notebook and quickly wrote out everything I could remember, details like the eagle-in-a star design on the burning town’s water tower. After two minutes of tapping my pen and blanking on more details, I gulped down a couple of energy bars from my go-bag, washed them down with bottled water, and got moving.
The latest storm front had moved on, which made a morning flyover of my search grid easier. Not that I expected to find any more holdouts after this many days of flooding, but I hadn’t expected to meet the Carletons and Stewarts last night, either. With the rain past, the predawn gloom actually made it easier for my infrared sight to pick up on the glowing lights of body heat, but the only people I spotted in my area of responsibility were emergency crews who were supposed to be there. I waved.
“Good morning, Astra,” Blackstone greeted me through Dispatch. His power-set wasn’t really useful for this kind of emergency, so he’d remained at the Dome. “Shell tells me that Powerteam has decamped from Cairo. How do things look to you this fine day?”
I smiled but kept the laugh out of my voice as I reported in. Decamped was a polite way of putting it; I imagined that they got yanked out of Cairo so fast that they left a vacuum behind them. By the time we finished patching the hole the adrenalin of the fight had worn off, and Spinner had been too shaken by his experience as a fashion accessory to stay pissy at being ordered around (Ozma’s victims tended to find their memory of contentedly snuggling her head disturbing), but I hadn’t been interested in speaking with him beyond stuff like “Do it here” so I still had no idea why FEMA had even let them into the operation zone. Now my day was brighter just knowing I wouldn’t have to deal with them again.
“Can you give me a report of last night?” Blackstone asked when I finished.
Frowning, I looked for a place to land. Sure I could talk and fly at the same time (if I couldn’t, Shell would have gotten me killed long ago) but I was supposed to be flying a patrol and if I had to think then I might miss something. An abandoned and half-drowned farmhouse offered a convenient roof for me to touch down on, and I absently tucked my cape under me to sit.
“Sir? Is there a reason it can’t wait for the after-action report?” Something was obviously going on; team regs didn’t require a report until we’d stood down from the current emergency. His pause wasn’t reassuring.
“Humor an old man, my dear.”
Okay… I started with spotting the tiny glowing drake and kept the commentary out; Blackstone liked facts first, then impressions. He was silent when I finished and I watched the sun rise to throw a bar of gold across the water. Then he said the last thing I could have expected.
“Thank you, Astra. And now please return to Cairo. The Young Sentinels are being recalled.”
“That’s just bullshit!” Tsuris’ response was typical. Crash’s easygoing shrug was too. Blackstone had left the announcement to me, but Ozma didn’t seem too surprised. Grendel simply nodded—he didn’t talk much, but didn’t miss much either. Shell had stayed remarkably silent and out of sight.
“Blackstone didn’t say why, but with the levees secure FEMA can handle things with a quick drop-by from another assigned CAI team. Since over half our senior team strength is down here too, it’s a good idea for us to go home anyway. Regardless,” I shut down Tsuris with a glare, “our ride is on its way so we need to be lifting in fifteen.”
Blackstone hadn’t explained, just let me know our pickup was coming, and I didn’t ask Shell. Months of weekly packing drill meant that we had our kits and go-bags closed up and stowed on our field pallet before our ride had time to arrive and circle Cairo more than once. Crash, Grendel, and Ozma climbed on and clipped themselves down, and I attached myself to the lift harness and took us up and away. We climbed smoothly and with Tsuris flying alongside to stabilize the pallet, even the cargo plane’s turbulence didn’t rock us as we slid into the open bay. The loadmaster guided us in and I dropped us inside the painted yellow lines with barely a bump. Rush unclipped to lock the pallet down before the bay doors had even closed. The load-light went green, and we were safely in.
Touching down, I unhitched with another sigh.
“Kick back, everybody,” I said needlessly. We had nothing to do until we reached Chicago—then we’d reverse the drill and be home in the Dome. Heading forward to the passenger section, I took a seat and relaxed. Shell popped in to virtually take the seat beside me. She wasn’t smiling, and the levity of last night was gone.
“Do you want to hear what’s going on?”
Yes. “Can I do anything about it?”
“Then nope. Could you do something else?” My notebook was back in my go-bag, but she could access and replay the Teatime Anarchist’ implanted sensory-net package “download” of me writing in it if I gave her permission. I did and her eyes widened as she processed it.
“No freaking way! Kitsune’s back?”
“I don’t know.” I closed my eyes and leaned back. “It might have been just a dream. I really, really hope it was, but I’m going to ask Chakra to check me out.”
Shell went quiet for a minute.
“No agencies admit to catching up to him, at least the files I have legit access to don’t have a whisper. Do you think I should…” She made the offer tentatively, and I opened my eyes with a smile. The fact that she even asked approval to perform cyber hackery was serious progress.
“No. If he is back, then it’s up to Blackstone to tell us if there’s anything we need to know. But thanks.”
“So what do we do now?”
“Can you find the town? If it’s a real place, looking for that water tower might help you find it.”
“Did it look at all like a military base?”
I gave it serious consideration, shook my head. “But Midwest, maybe? The kind of place with one stoplight you find in the middle of hundreds of miles of cornfield? Not that I saw any corn, but it’s spring.”
“If the town burning—and disappearing—is happening now.” She laced the qualifying statement with doubt.
“Yeah…” I closed my eyes again. Last year’s Kitsune dreams—all two of them—had never been literal, but nothing as mundane as buildings had shown up in them, either. I wanted to shrug it off, but as different as it had been from the others, it still had that same realer-than-real clarity. And although I’d felt no sense of alarm while I’d been in the dream, a weight was growing, cold and heavy in my chest. Not quite panic but close, a growing gut-certainty of looming awfulness. What I’d seen was real.
With no more from me to go on, Shell faded out (she’d added a nice whispery sound effect and a feel like a puff of cool mist on my skin). Off to play the Ghost in the Machine, she’d shake the data-built foundations of cyberspace. If an image even remotely matching what I’d seen existed she’d find it.
Why did I know that wouldn’t be a good thing?
We could have landed at the airport, but doing a loaded drop was always good practice and the pallet had to come home anyway for repacking. We bailed out high over Chicago. With the load blocking my line of sight, Tsuris guided me down for a perfect insertion through the Dome’s bay doors where Shell welcomed us wearing her new Shellbot shell.
“Off the clock, everybody,” I said as Crash, Ozma, and Grendel unclipped. “Don’t leave the Dome. Five hours, then we inventory and repack the pallet and go-bags.” Some CAI teams let their staff pack their kits. Not ours, especially since Lei Zi had taken over as field leader—when we went away from Chicago we had to know that we had everything we needed.
Crash saluted and everybody else just nodded; we all knew the system. I stayed to watch the bay doors close above us, and Shell and I headed downstairs. She didn’t say anything in the elevator or the hallway, waiting for my apartment door to close behind us before she opened her mouth.
“You think?” I stripped off my mask and wig, running fingers through my much shorter and lighter-shaded bobbed hair. I kept stripping. The new costume bodysuit covered me from neck to toes in layered Vulcan-created fabric styled by Andrew. The new stuff wasn’t just enormously damage-resistant, it wicked sweat and oils away from my skin into its layers and shed dirt and field stains away like nobody’s business, but I still wanted a shower so bad I could taste it. Especially since I’d been in a fight and even been knocked out for a second. Dr. Beth was going to want to poke me.
Shell sat on my bed and watched, wincing at the bruises that came into sight. The twist of sympathy in her lips looked totally natural—Vulcan had done a great job again.
“How’s the new Shell-shell?” I asked before she could open her mouth.
She wiggled her new eyebrows, stuck out her tongue and curled it. “Feels real, and there’s no signal loss as long as I stay close to the Dome. The Galatea shell can go farther since it doesn’t require as much signal load to drive. I still couldn’t have gone with you guys.”
“I know, I’m useful riding along through Dispatch. It’s not like I’ll be risking myself with the Galatea shell.”
Shell didn’t remember almost dying in the last Green Man attack or the months since she’d completely downloaded herself into the last Galatea, but she’d learned from her downloaded self’s experiences anyway; she wasn’t going to expose herself to direct harm again. Not that I’d let her—she’d only won my approval the last time by lying to me, letting me believe that she’d been uploading a running backup of herself into memory. The future quantum-tech to Verne-tech interface hadn’t worked that way, and the first I’d known about that was when I’d almost lost her.
I had lost her in a way; the Shelly who’d downloaded herself, spent months as Shelly-Galatea, befriended Crash and fought beside me, was flesh-and-blood now and living with her mother in Springfield. The Shelly sitting cross-legged on my bed was Shelly 3.0 and she knew it. She insisted we all call her ‘Shell’, not just as a nickname anymore, and now she’d styled her hair as short as my own shoulder-length bob and colored it black as Artemis’ raven locks. She’d also “aged” herself a bit, and looked like her chronological age of 20 instead of the 16 years she’d experienced.
Shell and Shelly, one a quantum-ghost and wingman and the other a high school freshman who texted and video-chatted a lot. Neither talked about the other much. Shelly still hadn’t used the bio-seed she’d taken with her to establish a neural link with Shell and I didn’t know why.
Shell read my look and stuck out her tongue again, an attitude display instead of a demonstration of Vulcan’s craftsmanship. She hopped up and followed me into the bathroom.
“So, do you want to hear about Powerteam now?”
I turned on the water and stepped in, yelling over the heavenly waterfall-spray of five showerheads. “How are they even real?”
I could hear her snickering.
“Their reality show format is built on tryouts and training. Crisis Aid and Intervention Certification is the official reward for those who make the team, but it’s really an excuse for vicious competition in the selection phase and soap opera drama in their headquarters-slash-communal residence. They’re a parody of a real team, but they don’t have to answer to a city or county that pays their bills so they can get away with it.”
I lathered my hair, trying to wrap my mind around what that had to be like; just thinking about the awful dynamics made me slightly queasy. It had to be like getting out of bed and jumping into a ripe cesspool every day.
“Okay, so how did they end up here? In Cairo I mean.”
“They have to do something besides train and scripted bickering. Usually they pursue specifically vetted General Warrants, but they also handle emergency relief. They’re not bad at it. Last night…”
She trailed off, but I knew that tone.
“Shell? Who did you hack?”
“Just their studio files after the fight. They were hardly protected at all.”
I bent my head to rinse so I wouldn’t have to say anything.
“Spinner’s been team leader for two years and they’re forcing him to move on,” she said through the spray. “The studio broadly scripted an argument built on whatever excuse the team could find, and he was supposed to get in a fight with Slamazon and maybe Kindrake. It would be a ‘character turning’ inflexion point for him, he’d realize he was out of control, resign, go off to China to gaze at his navel and discover himself, maybe come back in a year or two to join a real CAI team or an older reality team. He didn’t want to go, but the producers are ready to just terminate his contract if he doesn’t follow the script.”
“The fight was planned?”
“Improvised with guidelines.”
“That’s just—” I couldn’t think of a word bad enough, at least not one I could say. I finished up fast and grabbed the towel Shell handed to me. Blackstone’s decision to pull us out this morning, fuzzy before, now made horrible sense.
“What’s the rush?” Shell asked as I toweled my hair hard, looking for clothes.
“Does Blackstone know what you know about the script?”
“Tell him. Tell him now.”
I know I’ve already talked about the new Captain America movie, but I just caught an excellent article on Law and the Multiverse. It discusses Operation Insight, the initiative that Alexander Pierce *cough* Hydra spearheaded within SHIELD and Nick Fury–perhaps tired of the “long twilight struggle–approved. Because, really, Operation Insight and the “pacifying action” planned by Hydra to create a peaceful world was about two things: the morality of profiling and preemptive strikes.
To quote Law and the Multiverse:
“All Pierce wanted was peace on earth for 7 billion people, in exchange for one third of one percent of the population. That is all. In medical terms, it is laser hair removal. As the miniscule means to such a glorious end, it is easy to see how Hydra persuaded so many people to stand behind Project Insight, to set the targets, and even pull the trigger.
“In any genocide, giving the horrific act a proper name that followers can rally around is very important. Hitler called the Holocaust the final solution; other names for mass murders have included cleansing, purging, and even a great leap forward. Such was the case with Project Insight. Calling it Insight made it feel pragmatic and enlightened.
“Another common thread in each of these events was the same as we mentioned above, an insidious campaign to demonize and dehumanize a specific group. By getting everyone to agree that the identified group was a detriment and threat to civilized society, profiling was an easy sell. Racial, cultural, ethnic, and even idealistic profiling preceded each of the above events.”
So is the movie a blanket indictment of profiling? More of a cautionary tale.
The problem that a lot of people have when they talk about profiling is they confuse the observation with the action. The truth is that we all engage in profiling; the first impression we get of anybody is a quick visual, auditory, possibly even olfactory impression. Our minds immediately sort and classify, “profiling” the person who stands before us. It narrows our menu of immediate responses, at least until we gain more information. “You have only one opportunity to make a first impression.”
Of course if you rely only on first impressions, allow it to skew you subsequent observations, or profile people according to completely irrelevant criteria and sort them into invidious stereotypes…you may be a bigot, and you’re certainly being stupid.
Can government ethically profile? Well, yes–but depending on how and when.
For example, law enforcement and intelligence agencies have limited manpower and monetary resources. When they are information-gathering (possibly the most exhaustive and costly part of what they do), it makes sense to pay closer attention to groups who have a history of the kinds of behavior they are looking for.
They can ethically do this so long as they do not take the next step based only upon profiling. For example, the FBI may single out known members of crime families for observation since they are known to engage in racketeering and other forms of organized crime. But they cannot get a warrant to search Vinnie’s home simply because he’s Vinnie, and if they harass Vinnie then he has cause to sue.
The big debate about Stop and Frisk is whether it is being done appropriately, based on suspicious behavior, or based on pure profiling, because the suspect is a suspicious person. In the hands of badly trained or just bigoted police officers, this can easily degenerate to harassing or arresting citizens for Walking While Black.
One interesting twist on the profiling issue–and coincidentally on the data-mining issue–is that advancing technology is both aggravating these problems and creating solutions.
Imagine if all cops wore Google Glasses with face-identification software. A lot of the Stop and Frisk issues would disappear if police on the street could easily identify a suspect and determine whether or not he had a criminal record. Of course this simply creates a more refined layer of profiling. But on the other hand, if everybody else were also wearing Google Glasses (including the individual stopped and frisked), the incidence of improper Stop and Frisk actions would drop through the floor; instead of your-word-against-his complaints, you would have a video and audio record of the police officer’s actions.
Who watches the watchers? We the people. Police internal affairs departments are already pushing to make police officers wear their own cameras for just this reason–and abuse of authority would be even more strongly deterred by civilian recording.
A similar situation is happening inside government; emails have become the preferred method of departmental and inter-office communication, and this leaves an almost ineradicable electronic footprint. The scandal of the IRS’ targeting (profiling with invidious criteria) of conservative non-profit organizations and donors, would never have been verified as it has if it weren’t for the electronic trail. Memos, reports, directives, notes, all electronic, are creating “transparency” in government beyond what any law could do, and the Freedom of Information Act enables citizens to watch what their elected leaders and their appointees are doing.
Which is actually a massive digression from what Law and the Multiverse went into. Read it; it is strong food for deep thought.