For the vast majority of my life I believed in the general sincerity of our governance. I mean, I didn’t accept everything that they said, I knew that they’d obfuscate to suit their own political agendas, but on the big stuff, when push came to shove, I trusted that we were led by people who would not directly lie while looking you in the eyes.

Now, I don’t want to suggest that I believed in a rigid, black and white Cold War dichotomy.

I understood that there were nuances and that the truth was round, rather than two-sided, but I did think that Western Democracies abided by some immutable principles and were to the best of their ability, “good.”

Well, when the US government cynically lied to it’s own people about Iraq having Weapons of Mass Destruction, and then went ahead and invaded the nation, resulting in the death of perhaps one million Iraqis, all the while knowing that Saudi Arabia was actually the country that nurtured the 9/11 terrorists, my child-like faith was forever shattered.

It was simply astounding to me that something so calculated, something so evil, could take place, and take place without a revolution of protest erupting in our streets.

I now view authority with a level of skepticism that I did not before, understanding that those in power always have more to protect and gain by lying than those outside of power. And so it was that I went to see the documentary Citizenfour last week.

It’s actually more of a living historical document than it is a movie, I think, as it’s a real time presentation of Edward Snowden, over an eight-day period, as he leaked NSA documents to some journalists and the film-maker in a hotel room.

It’s a startlingly media-savvy and perhaps unprecedented way to conduct a leak, and that alone gave the movie a surreal, kind of theatrical feeling. Snowden was very consciously “presenting” himself and his motives to the world. He was, in a sense, acting and this struck me as odd.

Snowden always seemed to be suppressing a small, self-satisfied smile, as if trying to conceal his delight in being a gravitational figure that was setting a great narrative into motion, and I was astounded by how articulate he was, speaking in unbroken, virtually literary paragraphs when describing his intent and circumstances.

Isolated, without legal counsel and unsure of what was to happen to him and everybody he loved, he did not betray any anxiety, but seemed, calm, confident and even rehearsed in his manner.

Now when I see such a thing, I don’t suspect Snowden of fabricating the leaks, which essentially reveal to the public that the NSA is an omnipotent entity that has access to absolutely all our communications and actions, I suspect the NSA of fabricating Snowden. He was a CIA agent, after all, and what’s the use of a grand surveillance apparatus unless the people beneath it are conscious of it and feel its weight pressing down upon them daily?

I don’t have an opinion on the matter at this point, and there’s no way I can gather enough information to make a lucid and truly informed judgment, but my faith in our institutions is at such a low, that like a mad man in an alley, I find myself given to question everything that they prepare for my consumption, and you know, it doesn’t feel very good.

Last week in Toronto, a guy opened fire in the Eaton Centre (a large, downtown mall) killing one person and injuring seven. The other night, some other gangster dude was running about the city Tweeting to police about the various things he was going to do with a machine gun.

And of course, this isn’t even including the zombies.

Turned on by bath salts or something, they seem to be staggering all over the place, either chewing the face off of a person or ripping their still beating heart from their chest. And then just to ratchet up the I’m-Living-In-A-Horror-Movie feeling, the murderous psychopath Luka Magnotta exploded into the news, mailing parts of his defiled lover all over the place.

It’s enough to make you jumpy.

Apocalyptic jumpy.

This morning  I was awoken into the end times by the front buzzer and the demonic screeching of our dog.  When the buzzer goes off all the fur on her back spikes and she explodes into an angry shriek of barking. I really, really hate that. It’s like having a small, disobedient bomb going off in perpetuity right beside your ankle. It makes me anxious.

At the door stood a strange looking man holding a package.

I wasn’t expecting a package.

The guy didn’t look like a delivery guy, either, he looked  like one of the guys that collect’s bottles from our recycling box.

Suspicious Looking Guy: Are you Michael Murray?

Me: Yes. What’s this?

Suspicious Looking Guy: It’s a package for you.

Me: I’m not expecting a package.

Suspicious Looking Guy: Well, maybe this is your lucky day and you’re getting a nice surprise!

Me: Or maybe it’s a partial rib cage.

Suspicious Looking Guy: Could you just sign here, please?

Me: You don’t look like a delivery guy.

Suspicious Looking Guy: I’m a freelance courier, and anyway, what do I look like to you?

Me: Like somebody who might know a murderer who liked to send body parts through the mail.

Suspicious Looking Guy: You’ve been reading about the Luka Magnotti case, haven’t you?

Me: So you know him?

Suspicious Looking Guy: (Laughing) No, of course not. What do you think you’re getting Gwyneth Paltrow’s head as a gift or something?

Me: I’m just a little disoriented and edgy right now. Your arrival just woke me up from a creepy dream.

Suspicious Looking Guy: Would it comfort you if I watched you open your package?

Me: I don’t think so, but okay.

And so we both sat down on our sofa and he watched as I opened the box, which was a care package sent from my mother containing vitamins, soap, an article cut from a newspaper on somebody I went to high school with, and a squeak toy for Heidi, our dog.

Suspicious Looking Guy: Do you feel better?

Me: This is really starting off to be a weird day, you know?

Suspicious Looking Guy: Yes, yes I do know.

And then he saluted, shook his head and walked out of our apartment.