Everything Has A Cost by Nancy Brophy
We delude ourselves about privacy on-line, ignore every indication that no matter how much we follow the cautionary rules, facts are against us. A few weeks ago I wrote a blog on murdering your husband. My email is now filled with information from divorce attorneys. Maybe murder your husband is a trigger for lawyers like certain bombsites attract the Government.
I also get nefarious emails entitled ‘where black people meet’. Does the Internet think I’m a spy? Black people, rest assured, your secret meeting places are safe with me.
While I haven’t been single for years over-fifty dating site invitations find their way into my in-box with a smiling man who winks at me. Is it cheating if the guy is pixel-manufactured?
Because I once expressed an interest, every site I now visit, even cremation of a love one, has an ad for wall beds. Stoves and lighting fixtures follow me from my house remodel month ago. Opportunity knocks only once, but if you are in the market for a larger body part, that offer is never-ending. And while I’m sure they know more than I do, I don’t really think I need a bigger penis.
For certain sites an Internet connection is not really required. I’m sure Amazon and Ebay will allow you to make purchases whether you are on-line or not. With the constant technological changes happening exponentially, it will only be a question of time before visualization shopping is a reality.
Someone in my writing group asked how one could search for erotic photos for book covers without having porn sites stalk you. I don’t know the answer. According to television, women who offer themselves as an “escort service” have websites. I assume men do, too. How would one find a website without loading their computer with porn-esque material. If I were a public official, how would I keep my computer clean? Does anybody oversee downloads? Is that how the lawyer at SEC got away with hours of viewing porn?
Other countries aren’t like this. I met an American woman who lived in Vietnam and worked for a culinary company that purchased Asian equipment for stores like Sur La Table. The initials of the company were CIA. She cautioned us to not make jokes in her email about the CIA because the Vietnamese government read everyone of the emails. Believe me, I’m not advocating a different government system.
Occasionally I stumble upon a site that I really don’t want to see (and I’m not that squeamish). One of the local radio station’s call sign is KINK. I was looking for tickets for some event the station was sponsoring. The Internet took me to Torture.com. I had to blind myself with hot coals to get the images out of my mind. There is a chasm of difference between erotica and porn. No matter how few clothes you have on, torture is not a turn-on to me.
And yet without the Internet I wouldn’t be published. I wouldn’t be blogging and trying to establish that I’m an author worth reading. But with every undertaking I let another piece of my soul escape into cyberspace and understand exactly why certain primitive cultures refused to have their picture taken.
How have you solved this problem?