When I was a carefree lad in collitch in 1971, one of the posters I had on my dorm room wall depicted a creepy little man wearing filthy coveralls, face pressed up against the window which the poster was made to look like, apparently peering into the room. He looked a little like Michael-J.-Pollard-as-Charlie-Manson, if you can picture that. I thought the poster was hilarious, although it looked just real enough to be pretty creepy.
See, once upon a time, that was the only sort of invasion of privacy we really had to fear: the occasional Peeping Tom. It was often just kids being kids, but even when it wasn't it was still more or less harmless. Sure, it could be unsettling, could maybe even get you chased by an angry homeowner or the cops. But there was no real danger to one's person, or one's identity or personal information.
Then, humans being oh-so-clever and inventive, we began to invent new ways to poke and probe into each other's lives, to violate the heretofore sacrosanct right to privacy. Among the innovations were "bugs," tiny microphones which could be easily hidden in a room and enabled someone some distance away to listen in on whatever conversations occurred in that room, and wiretaps, devices placed inside phone receivers to allow conversations to be listened to and even taped, unbeknownst to the caller. Because individual voices mattered back then, there was at least an attempt to regulate and control the use of these devices, to preserve one's right to some semblance of privacy.
Over time, of course, we came up with ever more sophisticated devices and means to gather information on and from unsuspecting citizens. There were remote listening devices, which looked something like hand-held satellite dishes, and gathered sound into an antenna to be recorded without need of even placing a device in someone's home. Things got really good with the advent of cellular communications, of course, wherein any fairly sophisticated electrono-geek could know where anyone using a cellphone or computer was at any given time, and of course we now know that the NSA has been collecting data at will from all of us. If you own an electronic device, you basically can't hide from anyone with the knowledge and technology--and desire--to find you. I heard David Ignatius, columnist for The Washington Post, and thriller novel writer, speak a few years ago. He said that at any meeting of anyone anything near covert, people would not just turn off their cellphones, as they could still be traced then, but would remove the battery.
Now comes word that so-called "smart" TVs are listening to us. Samsung recently issued a warning to customers to be careful about what they say in front of their smart TVs when using the "voice activation" feature. Seems that, when that feature is activated, the TV can "listen" to what is being said. "If your spoken words include personal or other sensitive information, that information will be among the data captured and transmitted to a third party," says Samsung (italics mine). The language itself is chilling enough, I think: "captured" and "transmitted;" cold, clinical and possessive, and distributable. But the fact that Samsung won't reveal the identity of the "third party," or what that party might do with the data which will be collected is what I find freakiest. Privacy is gone, friends, like the other dinosaurs a victim of a collision with a heretofore unknown or unforeseen body.
Unless you're smart enough to stay away from all the gadgetry. I have a friend named Dave--no, not you, Dave--who refuses to have a computer, and so never gets these delightful missives from me. I don't know if he has a cellphone, although I doubt it. It's easy to see him as a paranoid or a Luddite, but it's folks like him who stay under the radar as much as it's possible to, today. He may be one of the ones who can elude The Man longer than the rest of us. Ridiculous, you say? Total paranoia? Let's hope so. "Orwellian" is an oft-used, and oft-misused, term, but jeez, it becomes increasingly difficult to ignore its truth. On the up side, maybe we'll make the planet uninhabitable even to the 'bots who'll inherit it.
Some tunes to enjoy, then, from that scientific/technological morass and the stuff we've been enduring climatologically here in New England. Here they be:
The Revolution Will Not Be Televised Gil Scott-Heron
Kicking Television Wilco
Television Man Talking Heads
Marquee Moon Television
Antichrist Television Blues Arcade Fire
Television Eye John Mayall
What Happened To TV? The Greyboy Allstars
Stuff You Gotta Watch Muddy Waters
Watch Your Step Elvis Costello
Watch Your Step Cold Blood
You Better Watch Yourself Dion
Night Watch Fleetwood Mac
Voices Carry 'Til Tuesday
Hush Hush Big Bill Broonzy
Honey Hush Roomful Of Blues
Hush Joy Of Cooking
Hush Deep Purple
Hush Toni Childs
Spanish Pipedream John Prine
The Spy The Doors
Roam And Spy Steve Tibbetts
All Your Secrets Yo La Tengo
(We Have) No Secrets Carly Simon
Secrets Bobby Womack
See ya Tuesday from noon till two, 91.5 FM, wool.fm.
And remember: "We can't talk here...."
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