Smile! You're on Len's Blog!

Oh, the perils of writing a daily blog for five plus years.

You'll notice the comment section that appears here every day.  It's not heavily populated.  As a matter of fact, most of the ones that show up are spam.  If a curse word is included in my prose, that entry is automatically tagged in the cyberspot where all pornography exists.  It immediately triggers comments that will include an ad for sexual enhancement drugs, penis extenders, and other what not.  As a matter of fact, by simply using the word "penis" in the last sentence, this very entry will invite more of the same.

Beyond the comments from folks that I actually know, there will be the random remark from a complete stranger.  Usually calling me an asshole for writing something overly opinionated and/or stupid.  And, by simply using the word "asshole" in the last sentence, this very entry will now receive spam comments from a variety of gay porn sites. 

I am digressing...

A little while ago, I got a comment from a complete stranger who did include her name which I will not share here.  She was rather irate and not because I made a joke about Joe Biden.  It seems she was in one of the photos I used about a year ago. 

You see my monthly features that are pictorials.  All easily pulled from the internet.  The requisite mug shot entry.  The awkward family photos.  And, specifically as it applies to this particular stranger, bad yearbook photos.

The latter is, according to the stats on my site, one of the top ten most viewed entries on Len Speaks.  Obviously, there are tons of folks out there who simply type "bad yearbook photos" into Google and voila!  You're at Len Speaks.  I did two of these pieces late in 2010 and early in 2011.  I have not done it again because, frankly, I couldn't find any more pictures on the web. 

But, one of them did include my commenter.  And she respectfully asked me to remove the photo from the piece.

Well, respectfully might not be the correct word.  How about "demanded?"

You see, according to her, the site where I had found her photo did not have the rights to use it.  And, even on a second hand basis, neither did I.  So, according to my incensed reader, I was in violation of her rights and she was going to report me to some agency that had a lot of initials which likely translated to some form of blog police. 

I didn't post her comment, but I certainly didn't want to ignore it either.  I certainly wasn't looking for a hassle over my Constitutional rights...or hers.  I already have been spooked out in the past when I realized, for one week several years ago, this blog was accessed by somebody at whitehouse.gov. 

I went back and deleted her photo and the snarky comment below it.  Truth be told, the photo wasn't all that bad and my joke was pretty tame for me.  But, at the same time, I didn't to give this girl any more grief than she's already received from her yearbook photo going viral across the universe.  Hey, I'm a sport.

It got me to thinking. 

There are cameras all around us.  In stores.  At gas pumps.  In banks.  Overhead when you ride an elevator.  In gyms and probably inside locker rooms.

You walk through x-ray machines at the airport and they can see your business, both literally and figuratively.  Meanwhile, snapshots of previous lives and careers suddenly find their way to the digital world and are fair game.  Somebody just sent me a work photo from about twenty years ago.  Thanks.  I always hated the suit I'm wearing in the picture. 

Then there's Facebook with all your alleged "friends."  I've been tagged!  Woo hoo!  Folks are going through all their archives and posting anything they can find.  One person threw up a snapshot from about twenty-five years ago.  With my bad 80s haircut and cheesy moustache, I look like a porn producer on Van Nuys Boulevard.  The image is so horrible that I think about asking my friend to remove it. 

What's the point?

We're all in the same sinking boat.  You, me, the commenter with the bad yearbook picture.  Where can any of us go for protection? 

Likely under the bed.  Forever. 

Or, if you choose to enjoy life being out and about, just know that somebody is watching you.  Always.

Dinner last night:  Cold roast beef and cole slaw.