It's official, the intrepid team at has finally caught on to Richard Forno's Infowarrior mailing list.
Witness: Infowarrior Digest arrived at 10:18 this morning with an Orwellian segment entitled (sic - I've always wanted to do that) "You?re Leaving a Digital Trail. What About Privacy?"
I returned home from my wandering the far reaches of the known Universe in my ever escalating campaign to be named "Parent of the Year" by exhibiting near super human abilities to juggle and cross-reference the many and varied school and sports practice schedules of those tiny little people who keep clustering (clouding would not work here- another of my 101 billion reasons why its a terrible monicker- deftly pushes aside the visual image of Monica Lewinsky and a certain Ex-President- for any kind of distributed processing system) I was saying before I rudely interrupted myself, those tiny little people who keep clustering around me and calling me Dad, to find that at precisely 2:40 PM, "Whatis" insinuated itself into my e-mailbox challenging me to figure out "who said it?" under the auspices (heroically thrusts aside mental image from vintage Mad Magazine's illustrated prepositional phrases) hmmm, someone has to be in charge up there... as I was saying: challenging me to figure out "who said it?" under the auspices of the rather bland (IMHO) tagline/subject of "Data Mining", with a direct quote from my favorite and heretofore (I shoulda been a lawyer) above mentioned email missive entitled "Infowarrior Digest".
I only have two complaints. (Well, I actually have over a billion complaints, but only two of them are actually relevant to this post.)
First, the article was less about data-mining than it was about the convoluted way privacy is viewed (or paid lip-service to) by the self-appointed "Master's of the Known Universe" that determine what minute portion of our lives actually belong to us. Perhaps, in their rush to be first out with proof that they are actually making an effort to be in-touch with all the data flowing around regarding our collective favorite subject- binary (in)security, they failed to commit adequate synaptic resources to actually processing what they had consumed (digital indigestion?)
My second complaint is just a weeee bit simpler: I had been cogitating about rehashing that particular nugget of information myself [sulk] as part of my never-ending quest to leave no stone unplagerized in order to further my ambitions to be, one day, named "Emperor of the Known Universe" ... or, at least, "World's Most Relevant Carbon Based Bi-Pedal Lifeform".
Sigh, foiled again.
Well, on the bright side, I, just this very moment, realized that the existence of 3 different types of brackets on my keyboard will allow me to get positively algebraic in my butchery of proper sentence syntax-{I never liked taxes much, anyway}
It also occurs to me that, with this "interim post" I have effectively obliterated the hypernano-possibility that my [not so] humble blog will ever be quoted by
At that, we'll go right for the bran-muffins:

The couple were 85 years old, and had been married for sixty years. Though they were far from rich, they managed to get by because they watched their pennies.

Though not young, they were both in very good health, largely due to the wife's insistence on healthy foods and exercise for the last decade.

One day, their good health didn't help when they went on a rare vacation and their plane crashed, sending them off to Heaven.

They reached the pearly gates, and St. Peter escorted them inside. He took them to a beautiful mansion, furnished in gold and fine silks, with a fully stocked kitchen and a waterfall in the master bath. A maid could be seen hanging their favorite clothes in the closet.

They gasped in astonishment when he said, 'Welcome to Heaven. This will be your home now.'
The old man asked St. Peter how much all this was going to cost.
'Why, nothing,' Peter replied, 'remember, this is your reward in Heaven.'

The old man looked out the window and right there he saw a championship golf course, finer and more beautiful than any ever built on Earth.
'What are the greens fees?' grumbled the old man.

'This is heaven ,' St. Peter replied. 'You can play for free, every day.'
Next they went to the clubhouse and saw the lavish buffet lunch, with every imaginable cuisine laid out before them, from seafood to steaks to exotic deserts, free flowing beverages.

'Don't even ask,' said St. Peter to the man, 'this is Heaven, it is all free for you to enjoy.'

The old man looked around and glanced nervously at his wife.

'Well, where are the low fat and low cholesterol foods, and the decaffeinated tea?,' he asked.
'That's the best part,' St. Peter replied, 'you can eat and drink as much as you like of whatever you like, and you will never get fat or sick. This is Heaven!'

The old man pushed, 'No gym to work out at?'

'Not unless you want to,' was the answer.
'No testing my sugar or blood pressure or...'
'Never again. All you do here is enjoy yourself.'
The old man glared at his wife and said, 'You and your bran muffins. We could have been here ten years ago!'