What I Learned About Myself Online

I'm not so sure the government doesn't also keep tabs, but since the IRS and the Veterans Administration are still using computers from the 80s and 90s, I'm not too worried about Uncle Sam knowing how many times I look at "Hairy Chests Dot Com."

I recently read in the Huffington Post about how you can look at the data that Facebook and Google have collected on you. This data allows them to help their advertisers sell stuff directly to you instead of disseminating commercials widely and hoping they hit the relevant market by chance.

In case you weren't aware, Facebook and Google and all the other online companies keep every bit of information you ever put on their sites. They also sell it to other online companies. If you've ever looked at porn, booked a table at a restaurant, watched a movie, looked at a white supremacy website, posted a recipe online, or read subversive media such as the Huffington Post, that information is out there. Forever.

This is a chilling prospect to many people - that Big Brother is watching us every time we're connected to the online world. It turns out that Big Brother is not the government in our country like we once feared, but massive corporations trying to sell us stuff. I'm not so sure the government doesn't also keep tabs, but since the IRS and the Veterans Administration are still using computers from the 80s and 90s, I'm not too worried about Uncle Sam knowing how many times I look at "Hairy Chests Dot Com."

If we're truly worried about the data "they" are amassing about us, it would be best to learn what we can about it. I decided to see for myself what Big Data, at least Facebook and Google, has on me.

First, Facebook. HuffPost's David Howley directed me to Settings, then to Ads and Ad Preferences. Here's a little of what I found out about myself:

• They know that I'm married. 
• They know I have a TiVo.
• Their version of my job title is an old one I had listed in LinkedIn a couple of years ago, and is not one I've ever used in Facebook. Someone's been sharing data.
• My education is listed as "Scottsbluff Senior High School and 2 others." Technically yes. 
• I live away from my hometown. Check. How does that influence advertising?
• I am close friends of women with a birthday in 7-30 days. Probably.
• I have a role in management. Well, that depends on your point of view I guess.
• I'm into community and social services. Yes.
• I access Facebook via Chrome. Yes I do.
• They have my birthday correct.
• My profession is related to education and libraries. Well, more or less I guess, if you take the long, long view.
• Frequent international traveler. Check
• Owns 2 iPads.Wow! How do they know that? I hardly ever use them. They're Clyde's hand me downs. One I only use as an e-reader. The other I don't use at all.
• Here's the big surprise. I am African American. Whoa! While it's kind of cool that my data indicates that, there is no universe in which I could pass for African American. I'm about the whitest person I know.

On to Google. Go to Account Settings, Data & Personalization, Ad Personalization, and Ad Settings. Here's a sampling of how Google sees me:

• Male
• TiVo user.
• They estimate that because of my YouTube activity, I like American football and basketball. Cue buzzer. Nope. Not even close. I watch mostly Ted Talks and BBC documentaries on YouTube. How do they get basketball out of that?
• I'm interested in boating. Hmm.
• And Bollywood and South Asian film. Of all the millions of movies I watch, that is a very small percentage. Very small.
• I'm interested in Chicago. I have nothing against Chicago, but if you were to ask me what city I was interested in, a few other cities would come up first.
• Family relationships are important to me. I'll give you that.
• Motorcycles, gardening, and parenting. Nope. Nada.
• Restaurants, online video, TV. Yes, absolutely.

Clearly Facebook knows me better than Google. Based on what Google claims to know about me, I must conclude that advertisers are no better off with this data than without. 

So is Big Data less scary than I thought? It would seem so. On the other hand, I'm sure it's getting more sophisticated all the time. In a year or two, I'll bet my info on Google is a lot more accurate. Still, I choose not to worry too much. After all, there is no mention in either place of "Hairy Chests Dot Com."

Who the Hell is Johnny Poling?

I rarely block people on Facebook. If we differ on politics or religion, I may scroll through your posts a little quicker, but I won't unfriend you. Like you, I hope that exposure to my views might change your mind over time. At least I'll get to see a picture of your cat.

But there's a lot more junk on Facebook these days. Whereas I used to spend my FB time catching up with friends and seeing what my nieces were doing, now I seem to be scanning through an increasing number of ads. I'm getting a lot of unsolicited information about local realtors, bridal consultants, South American vacations, and available singles in my area. At this rate, I'll have to find some other way to learn about my high school classmates' grandchildren.

Most requests I get for Facebook friendship come from people I know. Sometimes they are people I used to know and don't remember. If I see that we went to the same high school or university, or if we are from the same hometown, then I figure we must have some connection and I agree to accept the friend request.

Increasingly, I get friend requests out of the blue from complete strangers - people I don't know, never knew, and have no connection to. It's flattering to assume that a perfect stranger likes my posts and doesn't want to miss editions of BillsWeek, but face it, I'm not that much of a public figure.

I'm fairly certain that the scantily clad woman from eastern Europe who wants to friend me because I'm "cute" is not interested in my blog. Not only is she really barking up the wrong tree, she is usually trying to sell me something. When a handsome young man from south Asia wants to become friends "just to get to know me better," I know that someone's marketing is a little more sophisticated.

Which brings me to Johnny Poling. He first showed up on my Facebook feed a couple of months ago. Initially, I assumed he was a friend of a friend or something because those kinds of posts are not that unusual. When he kept showing up, I drilled into his profile a bit to see what our connection was. Turns out, we have no mutual friends. He doesn't go to my church and is not from any town where I ever lived. He appears to be very young, straight, and has long hair. Not that there's anything wrong with any of that stuff, but there is no discernible reason why he would continually be asking me to friend him.

He also asks me to answer odd, random questions in the reply section. "Rate your Freak Level from 1 to 10." "Describe yourself using the first initial of your first name." "Who doesn't have roaches?" "Comment your battery percent and add who likes it." And most ironically, "If you're a real account, comment real under here ..."

All of my real friends occasionally rant about Donald Trump or gun control. Many of them like the daily Bloom County cartoons. But no one real has ever asked about my freak level.

What is a freak level?

It is finally occurring to me that Johnny Poling is not a real person, but a kind of "phishing" persona who is used to gather information on Facebook users, people like me, who are innocently checking their feed for news of friends. When he asks those inane questions he always asks, he's actually learning how to direct advertising to me. They think I will be too polite to refuse his continuing requests.

Well guess again, Johnny. I am not falling for that. Consider yourself blocked.

On the other hand, if you are a real person, indicate it by posting your opinion about Donald Trump.

When You Don't Want to Talk to the Computer, Say Agent

After a tough day and a long drive home, I had exactly one hour to relax before heading out for my evening obligation. Clyde was out of town and I had the house to myself. I fed the cats and settled down with my laptop and the TV remote. I keyed in the URL for Facebook. Nothing happened. then a message came up saying, "Web page not available." I checked another couple of sites. Nothing. Nada.

Ok, so the wifi was out. Sometimes it happens. I'd just reset the modem - and nothing. Didn't work. I only had 45 minutes left.

So I'd worry about it later. I clicked on the television to watch a Seinfeld rerun.

Again, nothing. I unplugged the DVR/cable box, counted to 10, and plugged it back in. A message appeared saying that there must be some sort of problem. No signal was available.

35 minutes left.

"Can't I just relax for a few minutes?," I said to one of the cats. "Why does this always happen?" In fact, it's never happened before. I was just frustrated.

A half hour before I had to leave, I called the cable company which provided both our cable TV and wifi. Comcast's computer operated IVR (interactive voice response system) answered right away.

Now, I used to design IVR call flows. I know a good one when I hear it. Comcast does not have a good IVR flow.

It's creepy that it knows my address before I do anything, presumably from my incoming phone number. I had to provide the last four digits of Clyde's social security number (the account is in his name). Then I had to tell it what the problem was.

I said: "Wifi and cable are out."

"Is your problem related to the television or wifi?" asked the IVR. "Please say television or wifi."

"Argh...." I said, feeling a hole burning into my stomach lining. "Both!"

Comcast's computer said: "I understand you have a billing issue. You can go to our website and try to resolve the problem there."

"No," I screamed. "I cannot go to your website. My wifi is out." I punched 0 several times in hopes of being transferred to a customer service agent. It didn't work.

"Please tell me the nature of your call," the computer repeated.

"I want to speak to a customer service representative," I yelled, reminding myself that since I was talking to a computer, I wasn't hurting anyone's feelings by being angry.

20 minutes left.

I finally hit on the right command by saying, "Agent! Agent! Agent!" I was put on hold to wait for the next available agent.

Marie was very nice. I told her as patiently as I could what the problem was. Marie was, in fact, a real person and I didn't want to blame her for all of Comcast's IVR ineptitude. Remotely, she reset my modem and had me unplug the DVR. Like I'd done already. Nothing happened.

15 minutes.

Marie got to a point where she didn't know what to do. She would have to refer the problem to someone else and call me back in 10-15 minutes.

I don't think I have to tell you how I felt about that. The clock was ticking.

I watch a lot of television. Maybe I shouldn't. Maybe it's not good for me. But I don't smoke or do drugs. I don't drink alcohol. When I come home after a hard day I want to watch TV.  When TV is not available, I break into a cold sweat. My insides turn to jelly. My heart rate goes up. Quick, I think, go online to relax. Look at Facebook or Youtube or check email. But in this case I couldn't because the wifi was out too. Why not have all of the electricity go out then? What's the point of even being home? I needed a screen to look at, damn it!

I was putting my shoes on to go out the door when Marie called back. They were unable to identify the problem remotely and there were no known problems in my area. Could a technician come out the next day?

"Well yes," I said sarcastically, "except I"m going to be at work."

I did consider that I was lucky to get someone the next day, not several weeks from now. But we pay a lot of money for Comcast. I shouldn't have to miss even a day of television or Internet.

I left for my evening activity. When I returned, the TV still blinked a message that there must be some sort of problem. I desperately faced the question of how to cope with the rest of my evening. Without watching one of my shows, how would I wind down enough to go to  sleep?

Hands shaking as if I had the DTs, I leaned against the counter and wondered, "What did the pioneers do without screens to interact with?" I reflected that they were exhausted from working all the time and probably just went to sleep.

Defeated, I looked around for some sort of technology with which to occupy my mind. My eyes fell upon an iPad sized object with a shiny covering. Inside, words appeared. When you came to the last words, you flipped a piece of the object over and a whole new set of words appeared. I didn't see a power source or an on/off button. It didn't beep or flash. There was no "Like" button. Something deep in my mind recognized this object. I'd seen these before. I used to have a lot of them, in fact. It was called, "book."

I carried the book to bed, arranged myself between two cats, and fell asleep.

Botched IPO Does Not Affect Cute Animal Pictures

Facebook has been in the news for its botched IPO rollout. It seems potential investors and advertisers have a few reservations about the popular social networking tool.

I'm not an investor in Facebook but I am a user. And I think Facebook is a good way to keep in touch. I'm get daily news from friends, family, classmates, and colleagues, and some people who I'm not sure I ever had any connection with.

Facebook is also a great place to see cute animal pictures. Many cute animal pictures. A constant stream of kittens, puppies, giraffes, rabbits, and turtles. I take some responsibility for this. I, myself, have posted pictures of my cats, but they are exceptionally cute.

Of course, Facebook also serves as a dumping ground for political views. It's as if people believe that when they post this stuff, readers will instantly change their minds.

I wonder if anyone's mind has been changed by seeing an unflattering picture of a politician with a caption describing his or her extreme views about a controversial issue. While my mind has not been changed by reading something on Facebook, I have unfriended a few people who post nothing but regurgitated political rhetoric. One person's constant anger was so toxic that I felt the heat from over a thousand miles away. While I agreed with her views, I couldn't stand to face her wrath in the daily postings.

I'm more interested in the joy of a friend who unexpectedly became a grandmother. I like seeing the progress on the pond another friend is building in his back yard.

Though it may be trivial, I like knowing what Peggy the dog is up to. Peggy does, indeed, take the cute animal thing a step further by having her own Facebook account.

I hope people will keep posting news of themselves or I'll have nothing to read about but the outrageous shennanigans of the "republican'ts" and the socialist leanings of "Obamacare."

Fortunately, today there's a picture of a baby rabbit sleeping on top of a dog's head with the caption, "You've got a FRIEND!" Very cute!

Chatting Over the Fence or A Thousand Miles

That Wills sure is dashing, and I suppose Kate is pretty enough, as perfect brunette women go. All I could think of is what Di would have thought and how proud she’d be.  Hey, I am gay, you know. I didn’t stay up all night watching the royal wedding, but I did watch some of the documentaries before and after.

One of the commentators commented that this generation of royals is more “in touch” than previous ones because of social networking. I guess that’s true, if you consider social networking being in touch.

In the old days, so it is supposed, people spent more time with friends and family and less time on the computer. You'd discuss the news of the day over the family dinner, swap events with a neighbor over the fence, and wave to passersby as you sat on the porch.

With increased urbanization and greater mobility, families are further away and neighbors are, likely as not, strangers. Yet we are just as human as we were before, with that need to reach out and be connected. We've just replaced the porch with Tweeter and the fence with Facebook. We still wave to people. They're just possibly thousands of miles away and the wave is electronic.

It's interesting to see how differently people approach Facebook. Some, of course, resist the trend steadfastly and refuse to sign up. Presumably they’ve found life satisfying enough without being connected to all their elementary school friends.

Some people on Facebook don't seem to log in, ever. Don’t they get lonely? Some don't include a picture of themselves. Other’s should find a different picture.

Some don't understand that posting a note on someone's wall is not private - friends of friends can see what they're saying.

Some post every detail of their lives. Every date, sneeze, and meal are recorded for the world to see. Larry in Pittsburgh never shares a deep thought, but I know that he had broccoli for dinner.

Some people don't tell you the important events in their lives, but go on endlessly about their cats. Yes, I am one of those. But my cats really are terribly fascinating and everyone should be aware of the amazing and cute things they do.

Common postings on Facebook include, yes, pets; politics; comments wishing people wouldn't put political comments on Facebook; kids; travels; weather; sports; and Jesus.

And lots of posts are about really ordinary things, but ordinary things that are interesting because you know the people (or some of them) and you can relate to what they're doing. I loved learning that Linda, a woman I knew in high school, now lives with her family in the old Johnson house down the street from where I grew up. I think it's interesting when Phil describes his bike rides in the snow or what his kids did in church that week. I enjoy Chuck's casual references to places in Omaha where I used to live. If it weren't for Facebook, I would have never learned that my niece was sick last year. I wouldn't know how much snow my sister was getting up in her Wyoming mountain home.

You might argue that social networking is shallow, that it keeps a distance between people. True, 400 Facebook friends are not the same as 400 close friends. But who has 400 close friends? My close friends are friends in real life and on Facebook. I don't see any problem with that. And Facebook is a good way to discuss the latest antics of my cats. And I really do want to know what Kenny, in New York, thinks about Kate’s stunning dress.

Social Media and Technology: When Will the Madness Stop?

This week I joined LinkedIn, the networking site for professional people seeking connection with other professionals. I think it’s the 21st century version of the cocktail party where you used to drink martinis and hand out business cards. It’s like Facebook, only you don’t put personal stuff on it like what your cat threw up that morning. Instead, you record your professional news and accomplishments. Rather than collecting “friends,” you cast your network for as many “connections” as possible. The more connections you have, the more successful you must be. Or something.

I only linked in when a respected adviser basically told me I had to. She said that many corporate recruiters won’t consider anyone who is not part of this version of the social networking craze. Don’t get me wrong – I’m not looking for a job right now, but in this age of shifting corporate landscapes, layoffs, reorgs, and whacked-out bosses, one can’t be too prepared.

What troubles me is the growing necessity to either be a part of these social networks or be left out of society all together.

Facebook is fun, but I was shocked to discover a whole world of electronic communicating, even among people I see every day, that I didn’t know about. I’d evidently missed volumes of important electronic conversation. And pictures.

So far, LinkedIn is not fun. I have absolutely no idea what I’m supposed to do. I filled in some of the basics of my profile but other than connecting with people I already know, it’s a pretty sad compilation of dull information.

I’m starting to feel kind of whiney and oppositional about technology. I just don’t want to incorporate any more into my life.

I was the last person in the entire world to get a cell phone, and that was only because my mother insisted that I wouldn’t be safe without it. This is the same woman who let me and my sister drive across Nebraska to school in a car with no heater in the middle of winter, but that’s neither here nor there. That first cell phone didn’t work anywhere except in the 303 area code, and subsequent improved phones and plans didn’t work in such places as the inside of my condo, and anywhere I visited in Nebraska or Wyoming.

I was also the last person (in about 2002) to get cable TV, and at first I only got the old fashioned analog kind. I joked at the time that I was being dragged kicking and screaming into the 1980s.

I got a nice CD player only after everyone else started getting ipods, and I only got my first ipod this year when a coworker upgraded to a fancy new one, giving me his old one. Now I have all these CDs gathering dust where my vinyl LPs and cassette tapes used to be.

I have VHS tapes in my bookcase but nothing to play them on. I have these holes in my walls where my old landline phones used to be. I can’t figure out how to change the password on my wireless router. I only know how to utilize about 10 percent of the buttons on the four remote controls I use for watching television.

I haven’t even mentioned the many other virtual worlds I belong to. Netflix not only allows me to select the movies I want to view, it enables me to see what my friends and family are viewing. I’m not sure I want them to see everything I’m watching. And then there are the dating web sites. ‘Nuf said about that.

Is this all too much, too fast, or am I only getting old? No need to answer. Just let me shuffle through my dotage in peaceful ignorance.

Except I still have to figure out how to link to enough connections so I don’t look like a professional failure.



(If you want to leave a comment and are having trouble, try entering your name and leaving the URL portion blank. If that doesn’t work, I don’t know what to tell you. It’s technology, after all.)