Happy Privacy Birthday To Me

April31

Tomorrow, April 31st, is my birthday. I would have waited until tomorrow to announce this, but I haven’t been able to find April 31st on most calendars. Actually, it’s my privacy birthday, not my real birthday.

There’s so much identity theft going on these days, I think the business of stealing identity has become a significant part of our gross national product. Or maybe I’m just paranoid. But when people ask me for my birthdate, I often tell them April 31st. I’m trying to protect my identity from being stolen.

Wonk that I am, I memorized which months have 31 days, and which have only 30, way back in elementary school. So it surprises me how many people fall for this ruse. I even have an in-law who sends me a birthday card every year around the end of April.

How old will I be? Plentynine.

I take great measures to protect my privacy, so I’m gobsmacked when I learn about others who aren’t so careful. Celebrities are the worst. The reason why you can find so many nude pictures of celebrities on the internet these days, is because they store their naughty photos on the “cloud” and then secure their cloud accounts with flimsy passwords. Passwords such as 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9, or the very clever p-a-s-s-w-o-r-d.

Then they act so embarrassed about their sex videos being displayed for the world to see. I’d be more embarrassed about having a password that was just begging to be hacked. I’d be proud of the sex videos.

I protect my identity so well that even I have become confused about me. Who am I, really? These days this is more than just a metaphysical question. Sometimes I have to check my birth certificate, which I keep locked away in a safe deposit box. It gets a little awkward at the bank, when they ask me to identify myself before they’ll let me access that little plastic box. “That is the question, isn’t it?” I’ll sheepishly stammer.

I avoid giving my real name, birthdate, and other identifying information out, especially over the internet. For all anyone who follows this blog knows, I’m President Barack Obama. But really, I’m Elvis Presley.

I hope you don’t feel disappointed at not knowing who the real me is. Me and my ego would love to tell you. But sadly, you’ll probably never get to find out.

Whoever the heck you are.

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