I have no presence on ‘Facebook’, no thoughts of mine appear in instantaneous ‘Tweets’, no ‘Snapchat’ or ‘Instagram’ photos of my existence, the only intimations of my existence appear on this blog, and on others which I write for, or comment upon; because that is my choice. I am told that some young people leave a digital trail every day they go to school, or shopping, or any one of the myriad ways in which they seek enjoyment. Some of my blogging colleagues use Twitter or Facebook as an instant political commentary, but I leave those particular spheres alone, mainly because you have to allow the main engines access to everything you have stored, and as we well know, nothing stored on a computer is completely safe from prying eyes.
So when I read this small human story, I was reassured that others think as I do. The things I do for my wife are mine alone to know, and, apart from stating that I do these things because I love my wife of some forty-eight years, it really does not concern anyone else at all. Does the wider world really need to know what anyone else does, or which shops they enter, or what their views on clothes, or make-up is used? The gossip columns and photographs of people who are famous for being famous, as featured in printed garbage rags such as the Mail, are but typical of the strange desire to know what people are doing, the pix of someone going shopping, or emerging from the gym, or with their always-adorable offspring. The ever present pix of the vapid features of some illegitimate Armenians spread their pixels across both news and tv; and we are all supposed to marvel at the sayings, or rather carefully-scripted sayings, of one confused cross-dressing member of that family.
I don’t really envy Mark Zuckerman on account of his billions, apart that is for the freedom which that wealth endows. But I do so wish he hadn’t unlocked the Pandora’s Box which now is know as ‘Social Media’, because when over one billion people are signed up, the next thing we shall see is some form of compulsory membership of an allied engine, because of the hoary old line about ‘if you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear’!