The False Security of Being Boring

A lot of people are really worried about privacy and keeping as much of their life off of the Interwebs as possible.  A woman at work yesterday told me she “did” Facebook, but only to keep up with what other people were doing.  She never posts anything.  Just in case … you know.

And there’s that whole Snowden the NSA is spying on all of us and reading our emails and tracking our phones and whatnot.

I should be more concerned.  I’m a lawyer for goodness sake.  My previous employer worked closely with our fair government to help fight the bad guys.  I know something of what they are all capable of, both good guys and bad guys.  It’s some scary shit.


But I’m lulled into a sense of security because I’m dull.  I don’t do anything that anyone out there would really care about, I tell myself.  The rational me knows that the Nigerians or Eastern Europeans or junior high kids down the street could very well do horrible things to my life by spying on my electronic public and less-than-public self.

Their ways are sinister and mysterious.  Like siting in little rooms with rows of computers sending my blog auto-generated and really stupid spam comments.   I’ve tried to understand what they hope to get out of sending me a message about natural nutrition in broken, nonsensical English.  I’m sure there is a purpose.

Anyway, I continue to live carelessly and on the edge.  I use my credit card to buy stuff from Pottery Barn online. I post pictures once in a while to Instagram.  I comment on Facebook.  I sometimes even leave my computer open on the counter so someone could hack in and use the camera to take videos of me doing the dishes and folding laundry.  I know, I know.  It’s creepy and I should know better.  I take some solace that whoever could be watching is really, really bored.


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