Data Dis...Data Dat

Lately, everyone’s in a panic over the possibility of their data being stolen.

Which is a little odd since I’d bet most people weren't even sure how to actually pronounce “Data” let alone realize they had data to steal?

But now it’s all the rage to...well...rage about your misappropriated data, so it seems as if it’s a big deal.

My data is my data, and I’m saving it for that one very special data analytic company. Not just any Tom, Dick and Harassing analytic company who’s gonna use my data to persuade me to buy fake Fig
Newtons over genuine, authenticated Fig Newtons.

Ain’t gonna happen...nuh, uh...no way.

I cannot be swayed from my Newtons...you’re darn tootin...no matter how many of them you try to convince me are involved in undesirable activities in the basement of pizza parlors all over the country.

You can’t fool me...I mean, most of the time, unless it has to do with bottled water.

But who can tell from water?

Certainly not me.

I say, so what if someone steals my data?

In fact, I already had my data stolen, years ago.