Late the other night I found myself at the Safeway down the street from my house with a couple friends, and we were buying more beer. 40s of Olde English to be precise, and some orange juice. I’ve got a dumb drunken swagger on, and by the end of the night I’m not even going to finish that whole 40, but I buy it anyway. When I get to the cashier, I notice that her name tag says: RIAA.

I eye her cautiously, but give her a convincing smile. She says hello and asks how my evening is going, and for my ID.

“Do you know what RIAA means?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she answers bluntly. “It’s my name.”

“No, I meant the Recording…Industry…um…America…Alliance…”

“Way to remember acronyms, dipshit,” one of my friends chimes in.

“Well whatever it stands for, the RIAA are suing people for downloading music. I’m afraid of them.”

“Oh,” she replies. There is an awkward silence. “Well I don’t know anything about that.”

I look her in the eyes. She’s telling the truth.

“Well, I just thought you’d like to know,” I mumble.

But would she want to know? Know how her name incites fear and anger in my people? Hers is a powerful name, like Muad’Dib. I hope she uses it wisely, and for good.