Wired News: How Long Is Your Digital Trail?
Wired News: How Long Is Your Digital Trail?: "The problem with Google, computers, the whole internet shebang is that it's all right there, all the time, even at 2 a.m. when your judgment is impaired by nostalgia and tiredness and maybe a glass of wine and a sentimental novel. "
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And she (Regina Lynn) goes on to say: "The internet makes us vulnerable in a way we've never been before, and we haven't figured out how to handle it yet... We can get involved with each other across state and international borders, so no local community standards are going to stop us from post-breakup shenanigans. We can harass each other without the neighbors knowing, and we can exact revenge simply by attaching a compromising photo to an e-mail sent to the last person on the planet who should see it. We can even act with all the intensity of a jilted inamorato after just one date, or one flirtatious chat."
Well.. yea. Before we start flippin' out, though, let's remember one thing. Virtual sticks'n stones are of relatively little consequence. Not inconsequential, mind. Just less consequential. Far less consequential.
Here's an instance.
Back around 1986 I had me an Atari ST (full meg'a ram, man!) and a sizzlin' 2400 baud modem. Armed'n dangerous. Everyone knew my name on the Atari BBS circuit. Well, not my name. My aliases. Beowulf. Quasimodem. Triar F*ck (get it? Friar Tuck spoonerized).
Oh. And Electra. I was Electra for a few months. Borrowed the alias on a lark (won't name from whom - she can out herself if she wishes) and hung on to it. Hung on to it for a good while. No way was I gon'na give it up. Not the way it turned out.
See, all Electra had to do was message "Hello, boys," and there'd be like 10 replies. 10 replies in otherwise dead message groups.
Electra didn't just message "Hello, boys," though. Not by a mile and a coupl'a yards. Electra could write, if y'know what I mean. Oh yeah. And she did write. And message. And made them message groups hum. Hum and sizzle. And snap and crackle and pop.
T'be honest, lot'a them boys got an itch for Electra. They made that kind'a obvious - kind'a painfully obvious. Neither me nor Electra had'da be any kind'a mind readers. They spelled it out, in prose prosaic and pained, word by halting word. How a smart fem like Electra, who understood them oh-so-well, might be could appreciate them, as they did truly deserve, for themselves. How a confident fem like Electra was bound to understand their aspirations - and not hold their inadequacies against them. How a sensitive fem like Electra would not be able to help but fall for .. ad cetera et nauseam.
This all happened before geekhood (briefly) turned cool.
Why did I keep up the Electra thing for months? Well, a number of reasons. First, it was instructive. Second, it got me access to software I would not otherwise have had. Third - and most important - I didn't see the harm.
And, so long as it remained virtual, there wasn't much harm. Trouble was, I forgot the reason there wasn't much harm. I forgot to keep it virtual.
One not-so-fine-day, I went to a real-life get together. And I told a bunch of strangers I was Electra.
Well, I'm still around to tell about it. Could'a gone the other way, though.
So, far as I'm concerned, length of digital trail ain't no matter of life'n death. No so long's it is (merely)digital.
Poor Electra!
I think that point is that it wasn't the digital tail that was the problem, it was when the tail got pinned to a real person.
Virual life is virtually harmless to virtual people. But when people start messing with data that is mine or known to be mine, that's as 'in your face' as any other confrontation.
Later
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