Too much information

Privacy n., pl. -cies 1 a being private; seclusion 2 secrecy 3 one’s private life.
There was a time when the only information offered up by an individual to an unconcerned world was their inherent religious beliefs. Jews wore yarmulkes, Mennonite women wore baskets on their heads, Amish men wore straw hats, east Indians had dots on their foreheads and so on and so forth. These simple attributes provided information about a person without uttering a single word. A simple gold band or a diamond worn on the fourth finger of the left hand also provided enough information as to whether a person was single or attached. Skin color, eye color, hair color, and eye shape also provide information about an individual.
Long ago, there were certain situations called, “secrets.” If you had one, the object was to not release the information hidden inside the secret. The secret could have been about any number of things: a secret love, a secret pregnancy, a secret crime, secret plans, secret hideaways, secret preferences for a mate. People used to tell each other secrets and swear them to secrecy. The whole concept seems lost in that respect. Occasionally a secret would “get out” meaning someone didn’t hold up their end of the bargain.
Where am I leading with all this? Too much information. It’s the latest catch phrase of the decade. Privacy is dead and buried. And for enough money, you can purchase the contents of a lot of secrets. How did all this happen? I blame “Divorce Court.” If you grew up watching black and white television, then you can remember divorce court. It was in essence the beginning of “Reality T.V.” We would watch in awe as husbands and wives aired their dirty laundry for the world to see, while a judge listened intently before rendering a final decision. It was the ultimate, “fly on the wall” experience. The mildest form of voyeurism. But that wasn’t enough. No, we had to have more. The television show, “The Dating Game” provided America with yet more unsolicited information regarding certain “average Jane” females likes and dislikes towards eligible bachelors. And they in turn volunteered even more juicy, personal and private information. Day after day, week after week, year after year. The same genius behind the dating game also gave us, “The Newlywed Game.” It was inevitable. Push the envelope of privacy just a little bit further. I have to admit, I laughed like a mental patient at some of the answers given. The obvious object of the show was to entertain, but in the process, doors that were meant to be closed were unceremoniously opened. Discretion would be weighed and flaunted. Secrets were no longer guarded with vigor. The “People’s Court” saw to that. Judge Wapner became a household name and a viable celebrity.
Soon, even more signs of unwanted information began to appear. “Mood Rings” came along to alert us all to whether someone was suicidal, homicidal or horny. Pregnant women rode the bandwagon with their BABY tee-shirts, letting the south pointing arrow do the explaining. At least that bit of info. answered the unasked question: too much pizza and beer? Soccer moms hung their “baby on board” signs from their mini-vans and station wagons. More unsolicited information. Did I really need to know that? Was that meant to squash any premeditated notion of myself gleefully ramming my car into the back of theirs? I think not. Oh, and lets not forget bumper stickers. Aren’t we all better off knowing that so-and-so’s child is an honor roll student at such-and-such school? For some, cars are just rolling billboards enabling them to provide us with too much information.
Tattoos are certainly a colorful way to share someone’s information. Names, dates, locations, religious persuasion and even gender bias can all be gleaned from inked skin. I think of it as someone just screaming for attention. Kind of like people who write columns on wacky subjects. Hmmmnn…… anyway, cell phone users fall into the category of individuals providing us with too much of their information. First off, it’s a phone. It’s not two tin cans tied together by string. You don’t have to yell into it for the person on the other end to hear you. Unless of course the other person is deaf. I am tired of inadvertently eavesdropping on other people’s conversations. You are not that important. Your life is not that intriguing. I don’t care what you have to say. And the high tech geeks with “Star Trek” phones pierced through their upper earlobes sound like schizophrenics walking down the street talking to themselves. We used to run away from people like that!
That wonderful invention “The internet” is now providing millions with the opportunity to tell all the world about themselves. “Youtube,” “Myspace,” “Facebook,” are just a few examples of where one can go to gain further unwanted information. We can hear about this one’s rehab stint or that one’s relationship break-up or everyone’s divorce plans even before the parties involved know about it. There are no more secrets. Lives are open books for anyone to read. Papparazzi are every where and are taking pictures of everything. Camera’s in cell phones. Wire taps on land lines. Reality shows permeate the airwaves. Where will it all end? The other day while sitting outside my favorite coffee house, a young woman walked by wearing a tee-shirt that read: nobody knows I’m a lesbian. I thought, “gee, nobody knows that I’m heterosexual, but thanks for sharing!”