Privacy is a myth. Folklore and hope for the uneducated masses.
Heavily praised, greatly overestimated. In reality, non-existent.

Slowly shaking my head in sad disbelief.

I can't believe, people still believe.

Every single piece of IT in the world. Hacked. Casino robbed through its aquarium. Millions of systems hacked by millions of people. Internet of things is a revolution houraa. Automatic coffee machines gathering and sharing private information. Millions of little IT system's.
Devastatingly many, blatantly open.
Many more, only somewhat better.
But few, properly good.
All respected and cared for, like a drunk fat chick in a too short dress, passed out, at a teenage drugsmacked frat party, slowly peeing carpet stain is growing.

Dark forces, old heer family's, all-mighty corporations and evil nations in the east, manipulating the feeble and weak.

Masters of disinformation rule. Propaganda is new. Nothing for nothing and money for everything. Not enough money.
Print more. Press enter and move on.
Farmers destroying food. Quarantined Italians riding their indoor bicycle trainers.

All is welcome what is profitable. All is good that is profitable.
God bless the dollar and may the queen save the pound.

Voltaire mon frere, said, t'is time to tend me own garden. Watch roses grow. And die.

Time for birth, time for death. Time for fingerprints is now.
Loved and cherished like the girl on the floor we are.

You dont follow. I dont lead.
Privacy is dead and violets are blue.