Shitting on the First Amendment

The "thought police" have arrived.

Obama ad-Dajjal intends to police the press in a truly un-Constitutional manner:

http://washingtonexaminer.com/new-obama-initiative-tramples-first-amendment-protections/article/2544363

The First Amendment says "Congress shall make no law …abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press …" But under the Obama administration, the Federal Communications Commission is planning to send government contractors into the nation's newsrooms to determine whether journalists are producing articles, television reports, Internet content, and commentary that meets the public's "critical information needs." Those "needs" will be defined by the administration, and news outlets that do not comply with the government's standards could face an uncertain future. It's hard to imagine a project more at odds with the First Amendment.

WTF ???

It is difficult to imagine how a "constitutional law professor" could sign off on such a thing. Did this clown actually teach law to anyone, or is that also just part of his CIA legend?

Why is Congress twiddling their collective thumbs while Obama ad-Dajjal and his minions are unraveling 225 years of Constitutional protections and legal precedents?

Everything we cherished about the United States of America is vanishing. No one seems concerned. No one is doing anything to stop it.

Is there nothing worth saving? It sure seems like no one thinks there is.

Outside, even through the shut window-pane, the world looked cold. Down in the street little eddies of wind were whirling dust and torn paper into spirals, and though the sun was shining and the sky a harsh blue, there seemed to be no colour in anything, except the posters that were plastered everywhere. The black-moustachio’d face gazed down from every commanding corner. There was one on the house-front immediately opposite. BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU, the caption said, while the dark eyes looked deep into Winston’s own. Down at street level another poster, torn at one corner, flapped fitfully in the wind, alternately covering and uncovering the single word INGSOC. In the far distance a helicopter skimmed down between the roofs, hovered for an instant like a bluebottle, and darted away again with a curving flight. It was the police patrol, snooping into people’s windows. The patrols did not matter, however. Only the Thought Police mattered.

Behind Winston’s back the voice from the telescreen was still babbling away about pig-iron and the overfulfilment of the Ninth Three-Year Plan. The telescreen received and transmitted simultaneously. Any sound that Winston made, above the level of a very low whisper, would be picked up by it, moreover, so long as he remained within the field of vision which the metal plaque commanded, he could be seen as well as heard. There was of course no way of knowing whether you were being watched at any given moment. How often, or on what system, the Thought Police plugged in on any individual wire was guesswork. It was even conceivable that they watched everybody all the time. But at any rate they could plug in your wire whenever they wanted to. You had to live — did live, from habit that became instinct — in the assumption that every sound you made was overheard, and, except in darkness, every movement scrutinized.

George Orwell, from Nineteen Eighty-Four