#573 Privacy Chipped Away

Not long ago I did an article in which I jokingly mentioned chipping seniors.
May I say first that the shortened word “chipping” for the implantation of microchips into living beings sounds unfortunately like we intend to make them into beauty bark?
I’m wishing language had evolved differently.
Be that as it may, chipping the elderly seemed like a funny but actually practical idea. We chip dumb animals, why not animals who have forgotten how to speak?
Well yesterday, there was this huge four-page article on AP about a company who had done just that. Micro-chipped people. But the people it had micro-chipped were employees who were the only ones they wanted to have access to a particular vault.
Privacy rights organizations were outraged.
The company defended itself, saying the chipped employees were volunteers and no privacy rights were violated.
Right.
How many times have you been asked to “volunteer” for something in a corporate environment where the implication was very clear that if you didn’t volunteer for it you would be volunteering to stand in the unemployment line?
Excuse me, volunteer to facilitate the next workforce restructuring by initiating a personal exit strategy.
Microchips only have a discrete code number on them. They are not yet sophisticated enough to include GPS or other locaters.
But the number is enough. Readers posted on the street could see you walking by. Sophisticated computer software could process your movements.
The funny thing is, years ago I figured it would be bar codes. We’d all get a barcode tattooed to our forehead and use it for everything from debit transactions to discounts on merchandise. I said the barcode would be the Biblical Revelation mark of the beast.
Religious groups today are saying the same thing about the microchip.
It is a permanent mark.
Because once you get chipped, it’s really hard to get unchipped. The tiny glass cylinder works its way into your muscles and tissue and gets progressively more difficult to remove. A painful operation is required.
Like having a glass splinter taken out.
When I was a kid, they did that. It hurt. I needed someone to hold my hand¾so I asked my big brother.
America ya gotta love it