Crackpot tendencies

Sometimes paranoia’s just having all the facts.
~William S. Burroughs

I have to admit, I have more than a tiny crackpot streak in me. That’s okay, though, since my preferred lifestyle suits the crackpot in me just fine.

I use cash almost constantly, which leaves no papertrail. No one but me can track my purchases. It also puts a nice rein on my spending.

I want to live in an RV, which not only allows me the flexibility of working seasonal jobs if I wish, but also makes it harder to know where I’d be in even a few months. It’s also likely to be cheaper than renting an apartment, with the added benefit of actually being able to decide upon permanent changes to my living space.

Living frugally not only benefits me and leaves me with more flexibility and less worry, but also lessens the amount of money the government gets to spend on dropping bombs on People Who Are Not White And Have Oil. Granted, it also reduces the amount for road improvement and the funding of beneficent governmental agencies like the national park service, although I can donate to them directly.

Of course, sometimes my crackpot tendencies go a little far. For example, this makes me start wondering how much I really need the internet. Social media is probably here to stay and I want no part of it. The more prevalent it becomes the more I’d like to sign off the internet, at least for the most part. I feel like the internet is changing the way gaming has changed and one day I’ll wake up and find myself lost amidst an internet that no longer sees me as a constituent.

I’m hoping it’s merely paranoid delusion. I’m hoping that the internet is broader than just facebook. But every time I see that icon, or the twitter icon, that paranoid delusion seems less and less like a delusion.

I’m afraid one day the internet will be almost useless without logging into some major account that oversees everything on the web. A social security number of the internet. Poof goes anonymity. Poof goes privacy. If this keeps up (slippery slope fallacy, anyone?) soon our smartphones will be sending facebook our GPS coordinates. “A few moments ago: Fox was taking a shit.” An hour ago: Fox was at Burrito To Go!(TM) buying tacos.”

And anonymity and privacy is what I thrive on. Fuck you, social media, fuck you and your tendency to feed the crackpot side of my brain.


5 Responses to “Crackpot tendencies”

  1. Brian Says:

    I thought our smartphones were already sending facebook gps coordinates. Especially if you’re not scrubbing EXIF data off your iphone pics.

  2. Samantha Joy Says:

    And anonymity and privacy is what I thrive on.

    I’ve read several articles recently that focused on people who had been accused, by credible witnesses, of crimes they didn’t commit. Uniformly, these people were ultimately exonerated (of course, or they’d just be another schlub in prison claiming that they’re innocent), and uniformly, these people had no alibis for the fifteen minutes to half an hour that it would have taken to commit their crimes.

    And every one of these people had the same reaction: They want no privacy or anonymity anymore. When they’re in public, they go out of their way to spot a security camera and look at it straight on, so that they can prove where they were at 10:19AM on September 25th. They joke with the barista so there’s a better chance they’ll be remembered. They go out of their way to be noticed.

    I have read, maybe, five of these articles in the last year. And this is a reaction that has stood out to me. I thought you’d find this interesting.

    • That is interesting, and I can’t blame them.

      Although come to think of it, I’m not exactly anonymous IRL. I’m probably the only chick most people know with a buzz haircut and red tinted glasses. I’m pretty memorable.

      So maybe just mostly anonymous, then.

      • Well, and there’s a difference between digital anonymity and physical/social anonymity. We and the people we tend to associate with are not particularly good at the latter. Just ask anyone at the pizza roll joint.

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